


Glory Rising

by natashawitch



Series: Never Alone [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Au from season 7, Concerned!Dean, Dom/sub Undertones, Lucifer's forked tongue, M/M, Memories of The Cage, Mental Health Issues, Post Season/Series 07, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sequel, Spanking, Submissive/Bottom Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashawitch/pseuds/natashawitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Never Alone, which needs to be read first.</p><p>Sam is in recovery. Lucifer is smothering him with TLC. Dean wants Sam to come back to The Life; hunting things, saving people. </p><p>Will Sam have to choose between his lover and his brother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ich Will

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters. All belong to Supernatural, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gamian. No copyright infringement intended. Just playing with them.
> 
> At the end of Never Alone, Sam was in Stanford Psychiatric Hospital, having harmed himself/attempted suicide, pulled between Lucifer and Dean and trying to deal with his PSTD. 
> 
> Dean and Sam had agreed a truce about Sam's relationship with Lucifer.
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter title from Rammestein's song, Ich Will....
> 
> Ich will dass ihr mir vertraut  
> Ich will dass ihr mir glaubt  
> Ich will eure Blicke spüren  
> Ich will jeden Herzschlag kontrollieren...
> 
> ...Seht ihr mich?  
> Versteht ihr mich?  
> Fühlt ihr mich?  
> Hört ihr mich?
> 
> I want you to trust me  
> I want you to believe me  
> I want to feel your eyes  
> I want to control every heartbeat...
> 
> ...Do you see me?  
> Do you understand me?  
> Do you feel me?  
> Do you hear me?

**********************************************************************************************************************************

Saturday afternoon. 15th September. SOMA, San Francisco, Top Floor, HQ Lucifer and Sam Morningstar Enterprises.

It was three months since the night that Sam Winchester had sunk down the bathroom wall and tried to put an end to everything. 

Sam was standing in his kitchen staring at a bag of Arborio rice, reading the recipe for porcini risotto printed on the side of the packet and checking again that he had all the ingredients he needed. The recipe served four, so he needed to make one and a half times the instructions to ensure he had enough. Then he thought that some of the guests didn’t need to eat and sometimes chose not to, so maybe he should only make the amount on the packet. He wondered would it be worse if everyone wanted to try it and he didn’t have enough, if that happened he could forego his own portion, but he couldn’t do that because Dean was coming and he watched Sam like a hawk to make sure he was doing OK and not eating would be like waving a red flag. Sam puffed air through his partially blocked nose. He checked that he had enough to make six portions, frustrated with himself for being unable to make a simple decision. 

He said out loud to himself, “Come on Winchester, get your ass in gear.”

This being flummoxed by a simple decision was happening less and less but it was still a bitch. He puffed again and decided to cook for six and that Dante could have any leftovers. As Sam put three brown onions, a chopping board and vegetable knife on the worktop, he heard two hounds padding into the kitchen behind him. 

“I swear you guys know when I think of you!” 

One normal sized Rottweiler and one enormous one stood behind him. Sam leaned down and rubbed Dante’s head, there was no way he was offering his hand to Crowley’s mutt. The hellhounds were his bodyguards when he was alone in the apartment, but Sam suspected that Lucifer was also using them to keep an eye on him. 

It was too early to start the risotto. It would be congealed mush but Sam didn’t want to be cooking too much once the guys arrived, so he was doing his prep early. He had gone to one cookery class at the clinic in the week before his unauthorized and unadvised departure. Sam knew he was a terrible cook but the whiteboard had advertised “Grandma’s Apple Pie.” Sam went, thinking he could make it for Dean. He had burned the bottom of the skillet in which he was meant to be stewing apples, and rolled his pastry with such strength that the instructor had asked him if he was trying to make spring rolls. Tonight was his second attempt at pie and Sam was sure he had learned from his mistakes. 

The meal was a surprise for tonight. Three months since Friday 15th June and he was still here and in his opinion doing OK. Luce did all the cooking/materializing of the food. Sam could fix a bowl of granola and a decent smoothie but tonight he wanted to cook. He told Luce he was arranging the food for tonight and let him presume that it was take out or catering. He had enlisted Ashmandeth, or Hello-my-name-is-Mandy as Dean called her, to buy him all the ingredients for the meal. He was a little concerned that he was becoming agoraphobic, sending a demon to buy his groceries rather than going himself. Sam actually thought that Dean would approve of Ashmandeth being his personal shopper because everyone had freaked out when Sam had gone on a bike ride unaccompanied. Dean had chewed him out over the phone:

“I don’t get it Sam. The word is out. OUT. The hunter grapevine is buzzing about Lucifer’s return. They are gunning for you, bro. You have a Yellowstone sized target on your back. You need to be on guard, man, please. God help me, Sam, you need to take the hellhounds with you at least.”

Even Crowley had insisted on lending him his ‘pup’ saying, “You are not being a paranoid moose, if the hunter is coming to get you”.

Sam didn’t particularly like leaving the apartment, but he had his Schedule, a demon bodyguard/driver and the hounds if he was biking. 

Part of him thought that being surrounded by demons and hellhounds would not go in his favor if he had to try and convince a hunter not to kill him.

He slid the chopped onions into a clip-top food container and put them in the fridge. Wiping the onion tears from his face with the back of his hand, he went to sit on the sofa. His Schedule was sitting neatly beside his laptop. He had printed it on A4 and even though Luce and Dean and scrawled on the bottom of it, he had someone downstairs laminate it for him. 

Sam held the sheet in his hand and thought about when he had walked out of the clinic, ignoring his doctor’s protests. He had stayed there for four weeks which he thought was far beyond reasonable, however he was only one month in to a 3 month program. He had signed himself out and ordered a taxi. Luckily Stanford was a clinic where the inpatients wore their own clothes, or in Sam’s case his new clothes because Lucifer kept bringing him new things at nearly every visit. He had so many clothes now that he was like a Kardashian. Once his risk level had dropped, Sam had been allowed access to the patio and the hospital grounds but he had felt trapped there. There were three main reasons that he had to go, excluding the obvious “Winchesters don’t do hospitals”.

Firstly, he was sick of being called Mr. Morningstar, although he had agreed to the Morningstar ID to please Lucifer. Dean had turned up with a ‘David Lee Roth’ ID as a joke and when Sam took it out the following evening to show Luce, it had changed into Sam Morningstar. He had asked Lucifer what he was doing and told him not to jerk him around with ‘music phenomenon’ crap. Luce had actually looked guilty and promised not to do it to any other ID’s that Dean would give him.

Secondly, he was living with a constant fear that he would meet someone, maybe a University staff member, who would remember him from eight years earlier, and peg him as Sam Winchester, pre-law drop-out, poor Jess’s boyfriend, who vanished off the planet only to become a notorious and presumed dead serial murderer. 

Finally, he could not tell any of his therapists or groups anything that had really happened to him or the truth about his life. How could they fix him if he could not tell them his real experiences?

He had come home. Lucifer and Crowley and set up his Schedule with some input from Dr Asher in Stanford. Sam glanced at the sheet again wondering how he had ended up living such a structured routine. 

Some days ‘weary’ was the only word that defined him. Some days he felt all 210 years of his existence and some days only the 30 years he had lived. He was determined that today he was going to be 30-year-old Sam. 

He half-smiled thinking how he had certainly appeared as 30-year-old Sam to the new chick last Tuesday. San Francisco Survivors of Fire (SFSF) support group met on Tuesdays and Thursdays but Sam had now dropped going on Thursdays. Some of the other members had hideous scarring and Sam had been nervous at the start that they wouldn’t accept him, but Dr Asher insisted that he included this group in his Schedule. He had found when he shared that he had been tortured by fire that he was one of the guys. Last Tuesday Tanya had joined, a petite short-haired brunette with an eyebrow piercing and fresh burn marks peeping out over her high collared dress. She had eye-flirted with Sam from the start. Once Tanya had been introduced to the group, Roddie had asked everyone to do an ice-breaker. They went around the circle for everybody to say if they had an open fire at home, or growing up, and if so, do or did they use it. Tanya had just said that she didn’t and hadn’t. Sam had said, “Yeah but Luce lights it.” At the coffee machine afterwards Tanya had shimmied over to him and asked if Lucy was his sister or his girlfriend. Sam had told her that he was his partner. She had put her hand up and said, “Sorry, guy, you didn’t hit the gay-dar.”

“I’m not gay”, Sam had replied, “Luce is ... well... Luce is exceptional.”

“Whatever works for you, free love and all that.”

Sam hadn’t told Luce about Tanya, he had a faint worry about the consequences of a jealous reaction. He wondered if Tanya would be at SFSF next week, sometimes people only came once. He looked down to read through his Schedule for the bazillionth time.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  
**SAM’S SCHEDULE**

Monday  
.............11am.......Therapeutic Massage with Li at LSM gym  
.............3pm........Cognitive Behavioural Exposure Therapy with Dr Bauer in the anteroom

Tuesday  
.............10am.......Endurance Training at LSM gym  
.............2pm........Family Therapy with Dr James at his office, Dean to attend in person or via Skype.  
.............8pm........SFSF group at the community hall

Wednesday  
.............10am.......Bike the Golden Gate route with the dogs  
.............3pm........Attention Retraining with Dr Blake at the mental health centre.  
.............5pm........Couples Therapy with Dr Weinstein in the anteroom, Lucifer to attend.

Thursday  
.............9am........Upper Body Training at LSM gym  
.............11am......Cognitive Behavioural Exposure Therapy with Dr Bauer in the anteroom  
.............7pm....... ~~SFSF~~

Friday  
.............STANFORD OUTPATIENT CLINIC  
.......................10am.........Meds check up  
.......................10.30.........Psychiatrist check up with Dr Asher  
.......................12pm.........PSTD group  
.......................2pm...........Attention Retraining check-in with Dr Kerr

Saturday  
.............Dawn....... Yoga  
.............11am.......Weight Training at LSM gym  
.................................Poker Night

Sunday  
......................... ~~Lucifer’s day~~  
 **Dean’s day**.......... _if he is here_  
............................... ~~ **Lucifer’s day**  
 **Dean’s day ******~~

 ~~ ** **Lucifer rules****~~

_Dean/Lucifer’s day and I am laminating this_

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam wondered why he liked to read the Schedule when he knew it by heart. The bickering scrawls at the end always made him smile. Sam rubbed behind his right ear. There was a point where the curve of his skull sloped back and Luce had accidentally discovered that if he rubbed it with his finger it was like a hit of dopamine for Sam. Applying pressure with his own index finger, he rubbed up and down. He closed his eyes for a moment and then began to run through all the different therapies he was undergoing. He had to admit to himself that it was working for him. Every week he felt stronger and more in control of his memories. He hoped that soon he would be able to scale back on the amount of appointments in his week. 

Weinstein and Bauer were old style psychiatrists but they were looking into the latest therapeutic advances for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which was Sam’s official diagnosis. The two therapists were demons, ex-Nazi demons who had sold their souls in the 1930s to rise in the Nazi party. They seemed to view ‘fixing’ Sam as a challenge. While a part of Sam wondered about the wisdom of therapy with demons, at least he could tell Bauer exactly what happened in The Cage. His Cage memories were the whole focus of the Bauer’s version of Cognitive Behavioral Exposure Therapy; “Face your fear and learn to cope with it”.

Sam and Lucifer seldom talked about The Cage with Dr Weinstein, the aim was to focus on now. In their last session Dr Weinstein had suggested that Lucifer ease back on ordering Sam around so much. Lucifer was bossy. It was a part of their dynamic for so long that it made Sam feel cared about. Lucifer always ordered Sam to eat, sleep or come here, but Sam had protested to Weinstein that a change would affect the nature of their relationship. Lucifer had looked pleased and things stayed as normal. 

Another therapy which was showing results for Sam was the Attention Retraining. Stanford was the leading clinic in the use of Attention Retraining with PSTD sufferers. If he felt the flames rising, Sam took three slow breaths, counted to ten and focused on some positive thought or memory. Different routines worked for different people and Sam had refined his with Dr Kerr at Stanford. He had a 15 minute check in with Dr Kerr on Fridays where they reviewed how often he had to use the routine and how successful it was. Normally he had to use it at least once during the hours before their meeting, while he attended the PSTD group. Sam had been sent to the PSTD group as an inpatient and Dr Asher insisted he continue as an outpatient. Sam barely contributed but he sat and listened feeling that the others were going through similar stuff. He was the only civilian of the eight men. Six were Iraq or Afghanistan veterans and then there was Tony. Tony was an older guy who had spent two years in isolation in a Soviet Military prison in the 80s, after being captured spying in Eastern Europe. Tony and Sam grabbed a sandwich after group while Sam waited for his 2pm appointment and Tony waited for his daughter to collect him. Tony had told him how he had got home in a true cold war spy exchange. Sam had told Tony that he had been kept isolated by his abuser.

The worst part of Friday was the meds check in the morning. There was blood, urine and blood pressure testing but it was the anxious wait for the next week’s prescription that Sam hated, hoping that his doses would be lowered. He was only on three different medications now, the anti–depressants and the antacids were gone. He had a low dose of diazepam to help him relax. He still had Paxil to help his mood but they had kept the dosage low because insomnia was a side effect and Sam was officially sleep disordered. Weight gain was another possible side effect of Paxil, according to the flabby vets in group. Sam thought that if he was prone to this, it wasn’t showing because of his exercise regime and Luce having to remind him to eat. The final medication was the one with the worst side effects and his most important. Complaints about the side effects came up at group every week. It was called Prazosin. Sam loved and hated it in equal measure. Prazosin had been on the market a long time but it had been discovered that it improved sleep and eliminated the flashback nightmares of PSTD patients. Sam was administered the first dose in Ward H2 and as it hit his system he had fainted like a girl into Dean and the nurses’ arms. The first few days were unpleasant as his heart raced continuously but that settled down and now he just had the two characteristic side effects; nasal congestion and dizziness, especially if he stood up too quickly. He took one pill before bed. He had been sternly told that if he skipped two nights, maybe even one night, his nightmares would return.

There was one very important activity missing from his Schedule, and that was research for Dean. He didn’t know when he would be called on to boot up his laptop and dig out data for his brother but if Dean caught the scent of a hunt he called Sam to get on the case. He had set phone reminders for all his appointments because if he was following down leads on the internet, there was a danger he could be late or even miss a session.

Sam missed Dean. He was very grateful to his brother. Dean had stayed in Stanford for three weeks, coming every day to see him, until he had to go to Minnesota to help Garth clear out a vampire nest. Sam knew Dean was barely tolerating his relationship but that it was taking a lot for Dean to do that for him. He never narked him about Lucifer but Sam thought that Dean still wanted to rescue him. Even more amazing was that the only reason that Dean, the biggest therapist hater in the world, missed ‘Brothers in Treatment’ hour on Tuesdays was if he was mid-hunt. Normally Dean appeared via Skype but if he was within a day or two’s drive he came in person. A lot of the sessions ended up being about John, which Sam suspected was difficult for Dean, and Dean often clamed up by the end of the hour. Sam hoped that Dean knew he wasn’t blaming John for his life.

Sam missed Luce too. The first week after he fled the clinic, Luce had barely left his side but he couldn’t risk burning Nick’s old body out. So Luce was in Hell more and more to give the vessel a break. Sam knew that if he could let Lucifer in, even for a day, it would solve the problem and he could absorb some of the Grace. No matter how much he offered, Lucifer refused. Last night Lucifer had said, “Not that I don’t fancy a day looking down at the tops of human’s heads and admiring myself in mirrors, but not yet babe, you aren’t ready.”

Tonight was the best night of the week. It was called poker night but sometimes they played blackjack or other games. It was good company, cards, beers and normally a serving of laughter. At least three guests came every Saturday to make up a table of four with Sam. Lucifer was not allowed to play because the cards changed themselves at will. Sam had held three aces on the inaugural Saturday, and when Lucifer glanced at him, Sam’s cards morphed into deuce, a four and a seven, all of different suits. They put away the cards, took out monopoly and fifteen minutes later Lucifer owned everything and everyone else was in Jail. Dean had almost been excluded from playing being a professional hustler but as long as Sam and Dean were on opposite pairs it was allowed. The final rule of Poker night was that Sam would not play with three demons. Crowley called him a demon-racist, but the game could not proceed unless Castiel, Aziraphale or stand-in Seth came. Stand-in Seth was the human twenty-something assistant head of LSM’s Legal Compliance department. Sam liked him. He was a good guy for a Satanist. Seth had explained that he was raised Satanist but had been agnostic until Lucifer actually walked into his office. Sam had asked him if he minded dropping his Saturday night plans if he was drafted in to play, but Seth just laughed and said that his mother would make his life a literal hell if she knew he skipped a poker night at their Lord’s. Playing poker against angels was an interesting experience, but Sam knew Castiel well enough to read him and Aziraphale’s tells were lit up in neon. Aziraphale stopped sipping his tea if he had a winning hand, and if he was bluffing he kept looking at Crowley to check if Crowley knew he was bluffing. Crowley was the hardest to play against. He claimed he had invented poker, and Sam wasn’t sure if he was joking. Tonight Dean, Castiel and Crowley were coming. Cas insisted on partnering Dean, which meant a Sam & Crowley vs. Dean & Cas grudge match.

Sam heard the elevator and turned his head around as Luce stepped out stopping just inside the apartment and talking on his phone.

“Crariel”, Lucifer’s voice was raised, “I do not want to know about a queue breakout on Level six. Just because I’m downstairs more does not mean you can trouble me with minute details. Has the Malaysian plastics heir made his crossroads deal yet?... I am not happy. Send in a few more demons to influence him. I want that factory closed down, and Crariel be here at 8 for poker.”

Sam twitched uncomfortably at overhearing orders for a guy to be manipulated into making a deal. It was a bit too close to the bone. Sam knew now that his ‘death’ in Cold Oak had been arranged to maneuver Dean into Hell to break the first seal. If Dean had not dealt, then Azazel had a plan C righteous soul lined up to break the seal and Lucifer would still have had Sam resurrected to be his vessel. 

“Do I smell onions?” 

“Yeah it is my surprise.”

“Onion room spray?”

“L – O –L Lucie, No I am cooking, risotto and pie.”

“Do I need to put the poison centre on alert?”

“Stop pulling my leg. It is you, me, Dean, Cas and Crowley tonight and I wanted to mark the day.”

“I know, but I am still leaving take-out menus on the table. I want to mark the day too. Come here, Sam, I have a gift.”

“Do we need to go take this into the bedroom?” Sam eased himself up slowly.

“Come here.”

Lucifer took his hand out from behind his back and extended it towards Sam with his palm cupped upwards.

Sam looked quizzically at Luce but then he thought there was something in the palm that he couldn’t see. He bent slightly to look more closely and there was a tiny swirl of grey mist. “A ball of mist, Luce?” but as he said it the mist shaped itself into the outline of a new born puppy.

“A puppy, Sam, she is yours.” Lucifer smiled, “I thought you might prefer a female. They are more protective and if the owner allows, then they can be affectionate. Will you accept her?”

Sam reached out his hand. Touching the puppy felt like meeting a barrier of low level static electricity with his fingertips. At his touch the puppy shifted on Lucifer’s palm. “Is she mine? She is so small.”

“Do you want her, Sam?”

“Yeah “ Sam looked up at Lucifer’s anxious face, “I think I do.”

Lucifer spoke down to the ball of grey fuzz. “Hound of Hell, this is your Master. Upon your return he will grant you a Name.” Then he turned around, slid open the elevator door, and put the puppy into a dog basket on the floor and sent the elevator down. Looking back at Sam he explained, “I’ve sent her back to the nursery. She needs as few weeks as time runs here, topside, to mature. Don’t worry about not being able to see her. She will manifest for you as the dog you need her to be.”

“I could see her.”

“Why Sammy, you are a bag of surprises,” Lucifer was beaming at him, “Now how about the other part of your gift” Lucifer licked his lips.

“No Luce, I’m busy, I have to bake a pie, dude!”

_________________________________________

 

Dean pulled the Impala into a space in the deserted garage of LSM. He opened the dash and pulled out his ID on its lanyard. He curled his lip and shook his head wondering how things had gotten to where he had an official ID and elevator pass in his own name for Lucifer’s HQ. Then he corrected his thoughts to the even crappier reality – Lucifer and his brother’s HQ. He swore once more that he would pull Sam out of this mess. Looking up he saw the back of a trench coat pressed against his window. “Cas, I can’t open the door if you stand there!”

“Hello Dean,” Castiel moved out of the way, “I have arrived”.

“Gathered.”

“I have not gathered anything. Do you mean I should have brought a gift?”

“Cas you are such a dork sometimes”. Dean smiled softly at the angel as he got out of the car with his duffle.

“You are troubled, Dean. I can sense emotions from you.”

“Of course I am freaking troubled. I have to spend the next three days with Lucifer. I have promised Sam not to start an argument and I don’t want to break... to break our truce.”

“Lucifer may not be present for all the days.”

“No Cas, he will make sure that he is there when I am there. I only see Sam when Lucifer is in the apartment or with a frigging civilian therapist. I can hardly cuss out Satan in front of her,” Dean leaned back against the car and rubbed her bonnet. “I just need a moment before we go up.”

“Dean you have great reserves of patience. You have demonstrated this with me.”

“It isn’t patience I’ll need Cas, it is anger management, watching Satan manipulating my brother. I wish I could exterminate him like the cockroach he is.”

“I know you do. This is the reality that we must deal with.”

“I am dealing.”

Cas placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I have faith in you Dean.”

They heard the sound of a throat being cleared. Crowley was holding the elevator door open.

“Pep talk over? Sorry to interrupt your Hallmark moment. Get your freak on Dean. Sam and I are going to smash you at the card table. Come on Losers, elevator is waiting.”

Cas replied as they headed over “I seem to recall Crariel that you and Sam were in fact losers the last time we all played.”

As the doors closed Crowley poked Castiel’s arm, “But last Saturday, Aziraphale and I roundly beat you and the moose.”

Crowley and Cas continued to bicker on the way up. Crowley was enjoying himself but Castiel remained expressionless. Dean’s thoughts wandered back to where they went every moment that he wasn’t focused on a hunt or pie; Sam. Was Lucifer molding Sam? Could he persuade Sam to leave him? At times Dean found himself driving with an aching pit in his stomach, burning with worry and loss over his little brother. He was hoping that if Sam was well enough he might be able to convince him to come on a hunt. He had been keeping his eyes peeled for a simple salt & burn in Northern California, something cut and dried to get Sam back on the horse. He was sure if he could get Sam to come on the occasional hunt with him, his brother would get back to being more like himself, and less dependent on Lucifer.

As the elevator stopped Dean held his breath. He wondered what music Sam would be piping through the place. He had arrived one Tuesday morning to find Sam with his head in his hands and Radiohead on the system. As the door opened he heard Limp Bizkit telling him to keep rolling, which was not exactly The Zep but a good sign. Crowley and Cas were out shaking Lucifer’s hand. Dean stepped forward and nodded at him. Lucifer nodded back and asked him if he would like a drink. Dean asked for a whiskey, he needed a stiffener.

“I’ll fix the drinks, boss.” Crowley moved over to the drinks cabinet but stumbled sideways. “Hey pup, down boy,” he started to scratch his invisible hellhound. He asked, “Boss, you want me to take the boys downstairs”, looking at Dean pointedly.

Dean had broken out in a light sweat and his fingers were twitching for a shotgun of rocksalt.

“Fix the drinks first,” Lucifer instructed, “and I’ll ask Sam if he wants them removed. Sam is in the kitchen. He is cooking.”

Dean’s mouth dropped with surprise. He heard laughing and Sam came around the corner from the kitchen wearing an apron splattered with oil and flour.

“Luce, I nearly missed Dean’s reaction. You were not meant to say anything until I had it in the oven.” Sam came over and grabbed Dean into a hug.

“Watch the jacket with that filthy apron!”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch”

Dean pulled out of the hug and looked at Sam. He looked good. No dark circles under his eyes. 

Sam smiled at him, “Passed inspection, Sergeant?”

“For now Princess, now what are you poisoning us with?”

“Risotto and Pie.”

“You bake the pie?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ll risk it.”

“Thanks Dean, Wanna join me in the kitchen?”

Dean was glad that Sam was separating him from Lucifer and the hellhound, and hoped Sam wanted to talk to him alone.

“Sam,” Lucifer interrupted, “Is Dante in the kitchen?”

“Yeah he is asleep on the floor, I’ll send him out.”

Dean looked around the living area while Sam got the hound. There was another new painting since his last visit. When Sam returned from hospital he told Dean that he had found the bare walls too clinical. The only wall decor before had been the huge mirror over the fireplace, but Sam said that Lucifer had smashed it after he found him. Now Sam seemed to be channeling that art appreciation class he had taken in pre-law to transform the place. Sam told Lucifer what painting he would like and Lucifer procured it. Dean wondered if there were galleries with fakes hanging in them while the originals resided here. The new painting was over the fireplace. It was bleak. There were two people viewed from behind standing apart looking at the sea.

Sam had handed Dante to his master. Dean asked “Another painting? The couple in it look unhappy.”

Sam joined him in front of it. “It is called Two Human Beings: The Lonely Ones. It is a Munch.”

Dean eyed Sam suspiciously.

Sam said, “I find it calming.”

Lucifer called from the balcony, “Whatever Sam wants.”

Dean could not understand his brother’s choice in art but he knew how little he understood how Sammy’s mind worked. Following Sam into the kitchen he recalled the paintings in the bedrooms. He had glimpsed an enormous red painting filling a wall of the main bedroom last month. When he had asked Sam how he could sleep with that in the room, Sam had replied that it was Mark Rothko’s Black on Maroon, which helped him relax and then mumbled something about a first date, at which point Dean had changed the subject. In the guest room there was a dark violent painting of the martyrdom of St Sebastian. Dean would have burned it rather than hang it anywhere and promptly turned it to face the wall as soon as he arrived on every visit.

Dean stopped thinking about art as he took in the devastation of the kitchen. There were ingredients and chopping boards and spilled flour and a multitude of bowls and pans everywhere. “Wow, man, you really know how to take down a kitchen.”

Sam looked up from the parmesan he was grating, “You could help rather than criticizing my chefing skills.”

“Hey Julia Childs, what do you want me to do?”

“You can wash the lettuce for the side salad.”

“I am not eating anything green. It is against my religious beliefs.”

“No pie then.”

“What dude?”

“Apple pie, sorry Dean, I don’t want to make you a heretic.”

Dean caught a wet leaf of lettuce and stuffed it up the back of Sam’s shirt, “Pie privileges, or there is more where that came from.”

Sam twisted around and threw a handful of flour all over Dean, “Gotya, sucker.”

Dean reached up and smashed the egg he had hidden in his hand all over Sam’s hair, “No sucker, got you!”

Castiel stuck his head around the corner, “I thought we came to play poker not play with the food?”

Dean and Sam looked at each other and started laughing. Dean thought his heart would burst at the sound. “Good to see you man.”

“Good to see you, Dean”. 

_________________________________________

 

It was Sunday morning. Sam stirred in the bed. He was waking slowly after a dreamless sleep thanks to his meds. Last night had been a success, even though the risotto had gone in the garbage. They had eaten pizzas and Sam’s soggy pie while he and Crowley had beaten Dean and Cas at poker. He felt Luce’s hand drift down towards his cock and the forked tongue working on his left shoulder blade.

“Luce!” he protested sleepily, as he lifted the hand away. “Dean is in the guest room.”

Lucifer ignored him and started sucking at his shoulder blade and squeezing Sam’s hand rhythmically. Sam was starting to feel aroused in spite of himself and his meds. He pushed his shoulder back into Lucifer. “You are incorrigible!”

“Sammy, you love me when I am incorrigible. Turn around and face me, I want to fuck your mouth with my tongue.”

“That is called kissing,” Sam turned to face his lover.

“Not when I do it”, Lucifer pressed his tongue between Sam’s parted lips and pushed him down onto the bed, while he reached for the lube on the side table. He broke out of the kiss and looked at his Sam, lying there relaxed and ready for him. He worked his way down Sam’s throat flicking his tongue rapidly. Sam moaned and grabbed Lucifer’s back, digging his nails into Lucifer’s muscles. Lucifer traced Sam’s protection tattoo with his lips and mouth.

“You wanna try being top?” Luce asked.

Sam shook his head while still stroking Lucifer’s back. “Not yet, still too soon, I’ll turn over, give me a minute.”

Sam kissed the top of Lucifer’s nose and traced his hand down his arm as his turned.

“I’m going to give your ass the best massage.”

Lucifer got some lube and started on Sam’s cheeks working towards his goal. He kneaded with his knuckles and Sam pushed up towards him making small moans of pleasure. Sam’s cock twitched as Luce bent down to bowl cold air on his opening. Sam bucked and said “Come on”, as he grasped the sheets. Luce sucked his own fingers hard, increasing his own arousal and pushed two and then three fingers into Sam stretching him. “Come on” Sam demanded. Then Luce entered him greedily and they moved together. Lucifer pushed into his true vessel as the pressure built. Sam desperately tried not to cry out while Dean in the guest room. Then Lucifer came and the Grace burst out of him, filling the room and collapsing back into both of them. They lay on their backs basking in its remains.

“You didn’t come, Sam.”

“Sorry, side effects, couldn’t.”

“It wasn’t an accusation, just an observation. I always want you to enjoy it.”

“I enjoyed it, Luce. It is just difficult for me to finish.”

“We could try again?”

“No. We have probably woken Dean already.”

“Just want to lie here for a while?”

After a few minutes Sam spoke, “Luce, I’ve thought of a name, for the puppy.”

“You wanna share?” Lucifer sounded blasé but he waited with trepidation. The name would define the hellhound.

“Is it OK to use a saint’s name?”

“Depends on the saint. I wouldn’t recommend Raphael or Mother Theresa.”

Sam put his hand in Lucifer’s and took a breath. “When Dean and I were kids, sometimes Dad left us with Pastor Jim while he hunted. Even when Dean was old enough to take care of me, if Dad was going on a long hunt we could be at Jim’s for a spell. Sometimes we could be wild kids. Dean would behave if given a direct order, and I always did my school work, but we weren’t used to being in one place and gave Pastor Jim the run around at times. He used to say that we were hopeless cases. In the evening he prayed in the chapel. I would join him and he would show me how to pray, but Dean wasn’t interested in God and cleaned Jim’s weapons cache in the crypt. At the end of his evening prayers Jim would turn to me and say, “Now Sammy we will say a special prayer for you and Dean. St Jude, protector of hopeless cases, bestow your blessings on Sam and Dean.”” Sam recited the prayer as if he was back in the chapel and Lucifer squeezed his hand.

“Jude is acceptable. Do you know about Jude?”

“No just about the hopeless cases.”

“Jude was one of the apostles, and was martyred for his trouble. But he never cast out demons, buddied up with any angels, and was not known for acts of pacifism. He was said to have had a baptism of fire and is the protector of desperate causes and hopeless cases. It is an acceptable name.”

Lucifer looked at Sam, whose eyes seemed far away. He put his arm under Sam’s neck and around his shoulder. “Something else about Jude to share?”

Sam looked at the ceiling, “Dean doesn’t know this.”

“You can keep it to yourself if you like.” Lucifer put his other hand on Sam’s thigh.

“I always had nightmares. When I was little Dean had them too. He would wake calling for Mommy and Dad would come over fold him in his arms and order him firmly back to sleep. That worked for Dean and he would drift off. Dad’s orders never worked on me, even when I was still in a cot. If I woke from one of my various nightmares Dad would pick me up from the motel bed I would be sharing with Dean and bring me back into his bed. He would shush me, telling me to be quiet and not wake Dean. Then he would whisper snatches of old rock songs. The one that always sent me to sleep was The Beatles: Hey Jude, take a sad song and make it better.”

Sam was crying now. There were tears rolling down his cheeks as he wept for his father, missing him and regretting their troubled relationship. Lucifer pulled the sheet up to dry Sam’s tears and lay silently with him while he sobbed.

There was knocking at the bedroom door. Sam sat up and tried to pull himself together.

“Sam!” Dean shouted.

Sam leapt out of bed and reached for his gym sweats, the dizziness hitting him from the fast move. He walked carefully to the door, light-headed, ass aching from taking Lucifer when he wasn’t ready, and mouth dry with apprehension. He was sure his eyes were red-rimmed. 

Had Dean heard the sex and then the sobbing?

“Sam, get your lazy ass out here!”

Sam opened the door.

“Sam do you know what time it is? Garth just called me, there is a hunt in Oregon!”

Sam sighed with relief. Dean had heard nothing.

“What is so freaking urgent? Can I have a shower first?” Sam said holding his head with one hand and bracing himself on the door jam with the other to stay upright.

“Uh, Sorry man.” Dean looked at his brother. He looked as if he had been crying. Behind him he could see Lucifer lounging naked on the bed, barely covered by the sheet. He felt his anger rising and swallowed it down, “You OK Sammy?”

“Just dizzy. Let me shower and take my meds. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in ten.”

“OK man, I’m gonna need your help on this one.” Dean turned and walked into the kitchen. It looked like a retailer’s showroom. There was no evidence of last night’s party. The surfaces gleamed in the mid-morning sun. Castiel had been the last one to leave and he wondered if Cas had done a ‘Mary Poppins’ on the room or maybe Lucifer had a team of imps come up at night to clean. He put on coffee and went to boot up Sam’s laptop. He was trying to hack into it when Sam joined him, hair wet but looking better. 

“You changed your password.”

“Yeah, Dean, don’t you change yours?”

“You haven’t used one of the ones you rotate.”

“Mmm,” Sam leaned over and typed the new one in. “Want a coffee?”

Dean followed Sam back into the kitchen carrying the laptop, which he put on the breakfast bar. He searched for online local Oregon newspapers while Sam took his meds with a glass of water. Dean’s stomach hurt watching his brother having to take the pills.

“Dean, I can read worry all over your face. I am fine.”

Dean bit his lip and turned the computer around for Sam. “Read that.”

**Milk Sours in Bandon Oregon.**

“Sour milk? It is September, Dean. It’s hot. Don’t tell me Garth called you because milk is going sour?”

“What about this one then?” Dean clicked to the next page.

**Corn Products withdrawn from sale on Oregon Coast.**

“Leviathan?” Sam suggested.

“Could be but there is something else strange. Garth called because one of his ‘web-gamer-buddies’ was trying to get into Bandon last night to borrow some ‘kick-ass’ game from another geek. No matter what route geek number one took he couldn’t get into the town to meet geek number two. He kept finding his wheels facing the wrong direction. He called Garth, freaking out. Garth is in Rhode Island, so tipped me off to see if I want the hunt, if not he will fly over in a few days.”

Sam tilted his head, thinking, “So the town is locked down?”

“Looks like it. Not Leviathan style.”

“Let me on that,” Sam nudged Dean over so he could use the laptop. “Wonder if we can get a look at what is going on there.”

Dean sipped his coffee while Sam hacked into the local CCTV cameras.

“Dean, get this.”

Dean came around to look over Sam’s shoulder at the feeds. There were several cameras on screen but the town looked deserted. There were no people and no vehicles moving.

“Are you sure these are the live feeds?”

“Yeah, man, look there is a burger king bag blowing down the pier.”

“Definitely our gig.”

“I’m going to try the speed cameras on the way into the town, might give us an idea of how far the lockdown extends.”

Dean rinsed out his mug. He could hear Lucifer moving around the living room but blocked it out. He focused on being Dean and Sam, hunters.

“Look at this, Dean, there is demon warding on the town welcome signs.”

“Not just a human lockdown?”

“Can you see that Dean?”

“What did something move?”

“No, there is something else on the sign under the demon ward.”

“I don’t see anything, Sam.”

“Luce! Luce! Come in to the kitchen. I want you to look at something.”

Dean stepped back from the counter to avoid brushing off Lucifer as he came in to see. Lucifer put his arm around Sam’s waist possessively, and turned his back to Dean.

“It’s Enochian, Sam.”

Dean came around to the other side of Sam and looked at the zoomed –in shot of the road sign. He could only see the spray painted demon sigil, “What is Enochian?”

Lucifer looked at him. “Sam picked up on the Angel proofing. The place you are researching has been closed to angels.”

Dean looked at Sam. “How did you do that, Sam?”

“I knew there was something else on the sign. Don’t know how. Seeing as it is Enochian, maybe it was the Grace, but how I knew it was there isn’t the real problem, Dean. We have a town with milk and corn omens, warded against demon and angel entry, locked down and with no sign of life.” Sam tapped a few more keys, “Population 3100, Dean, we have to find out what is going on there!”

Dean didn’t agree with Sam about the real problem but they were working a job. He nodded and suggested researching who or what would be capable of the signs and omens and such a complete lockdown.


	2. Shake It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from Florence and The Machine's song.
> 
> "Regrets collect like old friends  
> Here to relive your darkest moments  
> I can see no way, I can see no way  
> And all of the ghouls come out to play
> 
> And every demon wants his pound of flesh  
> But I like to keep some things to myself  
> I like to keep my issues strong  
> It's always darkest before the dawn
> 
> And I've been a fool and I've been blind  
> I can never leave the past behind  
> I can see no way, I can see no way  
> I'm always dragging that horse around"

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later on Sunday 16th September

Sam and Dean were sitting on opposite ends of the dining table. Sam was on the laptop looking for leads about what was happening in Oregon. Dean was cleaning the Colt, and eyeing Lucifer who was lying on the sofa facing Sam, and laughing as he read a Charlaine Harris novel. 

“Love that Eric. Sam, do you think he is based on me or Gabriel?”

Sam didn’t look up from the screen but he sniffed and said “I doubt the author even thought about you, Narcissus.”

“Do you know that there is a character called Sam who shape-shifts into a dog called Dean?”

Dean wasn’t letting that gibe go, “You are making that up.”

“Am not, buddy, come on over and read it yourself” 

Lucifer’s phone rang. “It is Sunday. If that is Crariel I will roast him”. He put the book on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to take the call.

Two minutes later he was back. “I have to go Sam. Crariel is missing, the trace is dead and I was unable to sense his whereabouts. Call that fop in London for me and ask if he knows where the snake is. If he has any information, get him to call me.”

Lucifer disappeared.

Dean looked up from the gun, “You gonna call Aziraphale?”

“Yeah, let me get my phone.” Sam popped into the bedroom to get it and came back while waiting for the angel to pick up.

“Aziraphale?... Sam... Crowley is missing... Aziraphale?... Dean, he hung up on me.”

“Leave the angels and demons sort out their own shit. What have you uncovered about our Bandon problem?”

“My best candidate is a Native American spirit, but I am not sure. How would the demon and angel warding come into play? Unless maybe someone who knows how to do that summoned it.”

“Fill me in, Sam.”

“There is not a lot of solid info. There are sea stacks in the bay at Bandon. They all have cute touristy names. One of them is called The Face...”

Dean snorted a laugh, “and the others are Murdoch, Hannibal and Mr. T.”

“Dean. I mean. Focus here. According to local legend The Face is actually the trapped spirit of a Native American woman. So maybe someone released her and she is pissed.”

“You want to come tackle her with me?”

Sam looked up over the screen at his brother. “I don’t know Dean. I might be a liability.”

“You would not be a liability.”

“Dean, I could faint if I have to stand too quickly, or sniff to clear my nose when we are meant to be on stealth ops.”

“Well don’t try and stand too quickly and I’ll buy you a nasal decongestant spray.”

“I just don’t know if I am ready.”

“I think you are ready.” Dean was thinking that if he waited too long, Sam might never hunt again and this Indian Spirit chick could be a good choice, if they could figure out how to get her back into the rock, or else salt and cleanse the rock to free her completely. He didn’t fancy a boat trip out to a sea stack. Boats were nearly as bad as planes, but if Sam was there it would be fine. 

“I’d need to talk about it with Luce.”

“Do you want to hunt again?” There was the question, Dean had asked it.

“Yeah Dean, I miss it. I miss you.” Sam looked down and his hair fell over his eyes, “I’m sorry. I don’t know when I will be ready, man, I am taking each day as it comes and I can’t go without talking to Luce.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s alright. It’s good to know you want to come back and you will when you are ready.” Dean got up from the table and walked to the guest room. He couldn’t let his brother see the mixed emotions playing in his head; joy that Sam wanted to come back, concern that Sam felt he needed Lucifer’s permission, and dread that Lucifer would find a way to stop Sam.

___________________________________________________

 

Crowley had a policy to avoid being tortured at all costs. It wasn’t working for him at the moment. He was suspended in wrist manacles which were slowly pulling his upper arm muscles away from his shoulders. He was in an oubliette, which was ironic because he was the demon who had suggested this hell torture to a medieval despot one long summer night after a shared gallon of mead. Water began to seep in below his feet and then to rise in the darkness. He knew where and when he was from the distinctive smell of the tide.

“Bollocks,” he muttered, “The Thames, 18th century vintage, but if I am in London I can get out of here.”

He started to sing loudly, “The tide is high but I’m holding on... Come on you pricks... The Thames stinks... Come on guys, this is cruel and unusual...”

The hatch above his head opened and four arms descended pulling him out as his manacles fell away. Crowley blinked and he was being forced down a sewer-like tunnel held by the long handle of a catchpole which was fastened around his neck. “Boys, Who are you? Can’t we have a civilized chat about this?”

“We are angels of the lord.”

“Figured as much, why are we in 18th century London?”

“This is not London. We needed you in a place where the Morningstar cannot reach you. We are in Heaven. Welcome home Crowley.”

Crowley knew he was fucked. He wondered if it was possible to talk his way out of this and if there was any way he could ever escape from Heaven. The two angels pushed him down onto a flat stone and chained him to it. Then one of the dicks got a slab and laid it on top of him.

“The Pressing, Crowley. Another one of your ideas?”

Crowley forced words out, “Not me this time, darling.”

“Ready to give us the information we require?”

“You haven’t asked me yet.”

“What have you released from Hell?”

“Nothing.”

“What have you released from Hell?” the Angel speaking pressed down on the slab.

When he eased the pressure Crowley choked out, “My hands are clean, sweetheart. Lucifer came out for Sam Winchester.”

The angel pressed down again. “The Morningstar’s escape is old news. Why have you released a Becuma in Oregon?”

Crowley had no idea what the angels meant. “Listen dickhead, I am kind of attached to this meatsuit.”

“Why are you disrupting the fabric of the world in Oregon?”

Crowley screamed, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT.”

The other angel stepped forward, “The Pressing does not seem to be effective with you, but we have many other divine processes to try on you.”

There was a flash of lightning, the tunnel and the press vanished and they were in a white room with Crowley chained to the floor. The angels turned around.

“Aziraphale? How dare you re-enter heaven?”

“No rules against it, Gentleman. Ishmael and Ammiel, if my memory does not fail me.”

“Aziraphale, you cannot be here to rescue the demon King of Hell. How have you not fallen?”

“Well, Ish-dearie, you just can’t shake the Grace out of me.”

“We could try.” Ammiel threatened as he took a step closer.

“Leave Crariel go.”

“No. You will never be welcome in heaven again!”

“I have studiously avoided the place for over six thousand years. My brothers, you have kindly reminded me why.”

Ammiel drew his angel blade, “You cannot hope to take us both.”

“I can.” Aziraphale produced a flaming angel sword.

Ishmael gasped, “Where did you get that?”

“It is mine. I lent it out twice; once a very long time ago, and more recently to dearest Balthazar. When Castiel was tidying up his God debris, he returned it to me. Now dear brothers, I AM THE ANGEL OF THE GATE. HAND OVER CRARIEL OR I WILL SMITE YOU.”

The angels vanished. As Aziraphale popped his chains Crowley said admiringly, “I didn’t know you had it in you, mate. You kicked butt. Home via Saville Row please driver. I need new threads.”

___________________________________________________

 

11.30 pm  
Dean had left at seven. He asked Sam to re-consider and come along for the ride, but Lucifer was looking for Crowley and Sam was not going to let him come home to an empty apartment. Lucifer and Crowley were still missing in action and Sam was getting anxious. The internal phone rang. It only ever rang for Lucifer. Maybe it was Lucifer? Sam picked up.

“Hello, this is Sam.”

“It is Ashmandeth, sir. You are needed downstairs.”

“I am what?”

“In the absence of Our Lord and of his Regent, I am instructed to call on you. There is an urgent matter requiring immediate attention in the Immortal Souls department. If you would prefer not to descend into Hell proper, then the Duke in charge will meet you in the Regent’s office.”

Sam took three slow breaths, thought counted to ten, and told himself; you can do this, you promised to do this in an emergency, you can deal with whatever has gone wrong or postpone the problem until Lucifer gets back.

“OK, Crowley’s office. I am on my way.” 

Sam called the hounds to come with him. He was used to going down to Crowley’s office. His sessions with Bauer and Weinstein took place in the office anteroom, but normally Luce, Crowley, or one of his lackeys, set the elevator for him so that the button for the sub-basement was already on the panel. Sam looked at the blank space where the button should be and nearly initiated a nosebleed willing it into manifestation. He took three slow breaths going down and was still counting to ten when the door opened.

There was no one in the office to greet him. He leaned against Crowley’s desk to wait but was feeling a bit light-headed so he sank down into Crowley’s chair. There were two locked drawers beside his right leg. Sam’s natural reaction to a lock was to pick it. Unable to resist, he took a paperclip from the tray on the desk and set to work. He listened for any sounds outside but it was quiet as the grave. After a few seconds the catch on the slim top drawer gave way and Sam moved to the deep second drawer which took a little more finesse to click back. He opened the top drawer. There was an old time quill and a bottle of red ink or blood, a British Passport for Anthony Crowley, and a contract dated yesterday with a post-it labeling it for the boss to review. Sam moved to the other drawer, listening again for the duke. 

There were six slim cardboard box files lying on top of each other. The top one was “Vladimir Putin: Contracts”. He found that amusing but didn’t bother opening it. Placing that one on the desk he removed “Tadfield” and put it directly under the first one. The third file was marked “Deeds”, Sam balanced it on his lap and had a peek at the top document inside. It was the property deed for A. Zirafell’s shop, pinned with carefully completed counterfoils of ground rent receipts. Sam wondered if the angel knew that Crowley owned his shop. The next one was labeled ‘Loki’ and Sam’s lips twitched in a half-smile as he put it neatly under the first three. As he removed the next file it nearly slipped from his fingers. It had a very old parchment label with copperplate lettering “Castiel” and underneath in Crowley’s hand “and Dean Winchester”. He rested it on his knee to open in a moment and bent over to see if the final file was on him. He was amazed to see the label said “Chuck Shurley”. He could not think of a reason why Crowley would have a file on Chuck hidden in his office. Sam wondered if Crowley had been keeping tabs on people behind Lucifer’s back, and if there was a “Sam Winchester” file hidden somewhere more discreet. He was just about to open the Castiel and Dean file when he heard someone in the hall outside. He quickly replaced everything and waited. The door swung back to reveal a long dark emaciated figure in a black suit, shirt and tie. 

“I am Meshach, Duke of Hell. A pleasure to finally meet your Highness.” Meshach’s voice sounded like a bitter wind on an arctic day. Sam was glad he hadn’t met him any earlier. Sam inclined his head to acknowledge the duke and asked “Please ditch the highness”. Sam paused for a moment, he didn’t want to be called Sam by this demon, and “You can call me Mr. Morningstar.”

Meshach nodded sagely, “Mr. Morningstar, there is a contract which must be signed before midnight or we lose the deal.”

Sam motioned his hand for the duke to continue.

“A rare orchid habitat will be saved.” Meshach spat this out as if being corrupted by the goal of the deal, “Our Lord, Praise him, has shown a special interest in the flower.”

Sam was conflicted. He knew all about the orchid. Lucifer had been vocal about the incompetence of the environmental action group he had bankrolled. But Sam really did not want to sign off on a deal. He could feel his nerves starting to tremble and thought he would need a diazepam when he got back upstairs. 

“Meshach, what does the soul get out of the deal?”

“Ah yes, George Fielding gets the standard ten year deal. His son was on a track and field scholarship but his car went off a bridge in a rainstorm last January. Now he is paraplegic. The son gets completely healed and his place back at Princeton. I believe that Mr. Fielding begged and pleaded with the crossroads demon for the deal, was willing to take five years to ensure we would hold up our side of the bargain, but the demon found him so amusing she granted him ten.”

Sam thought about this man, sacrificing his soul for his son. Did he have the right to deny him the deal he had freely chosen and sealed with a kiss? He thought about how much Lucifer wanted to save the orchid.

“OK, show me the contract.”

“You need to sign here,” Meshach pointed at the bottom a page.

“What do I sign as? I mean do you need my full name?”

“Full name but choose what name you wish to use.”

Sam signed as Sam Winchester – Morningstar, sighing with relief, “Done and it is only 11.55”.

“Not yet Mr. Morningstar, you need to sign the next 6 pages also.”

“Oh good God, we will be here until after midnight, can I not initial?”

“You may initial the next 5 pages, sir; however you must sign the final line.”

Sam scribbled SWM on the pages and then his full name again, “Are we done?”

“Congratulations, sir, you now hold your first contract. The soul is yours. Its energy increases your power.”

Sam stood up and realized he was taller than the demon, “What. The. Fuck?”

Meshach backed out of the office, “Excuse me, sir, I need to get back to my department, after midnight, new day, new contracts.”

Sam put his head in his hands. What had he done? How was he going to explain this to Dean? He couldn’t hide this from Dean. They had made an honesty pact in therapy, as Dr James insisted that much of the tension between them was due to secret keeping. Dean was going to blow a gasket. Sam decided that he would wait until just before therapy on Tuesday, so if Dean did explode at least they had a session afterwards. He felt better having decided and called Dante, leaving Crowley’s hound behind to await his master.

Sam had just changed into his night sweats and taken his Prazosin when he heard Luce return.

“Is Dean gone? I found the snake.” Lucifer shouted from the living room.

“Where was he?” Sam asked coming out of the bedroom.

“Kidnapped by angels. They accused him of releasing Becuma from Hell. We don’t even have a Becuma. Aziraphale rescued him from Heaven. I was just hanging around. I could have stayed here with you.”

“I wish you had.”

“Why Sammy, bad night?” Lucifer walked over and put an arm around Sam’s waist.

“Yes, but not in that way. Luce, can I free George Fielding’s soul?”

“Oh Sam, did you have to sign the contract? If you want to free his soul you can. It will come to you in ten years time, and then you can do whatever you like with it. You can send it to Heaven if you want. Sometimes souls who have dealt do not want to go to Heaven and in that event you could give him a job here. He would be good in acquisitions. His current corporate abilities were a driving reason for dealing with him rather than other potential orchid candidates. We were not planning the whole torture gig for him. He is yours. You can eat his soul for the juice if you like.”

“That is not exactly a comforting image, Lucifer.” 

Lucifer shrugged. Sam moved out of his embrace and went to make a cup of green tea. Then he sat at the breakfast bar sipping the hot liquid.

“By the way, why did the angels think that Crowley had released a Bee Comer?”

“Becuma. I really don’t know. They accused him of causing a disruption in Oregon.”

Sam dropped his cup.

“Dean! Luce, Dean is on his way to Oregon without back up. He thinks he is facing a Native American spirit.” 

Sam sprang off the stool and hit the floor face down, head spinning. He stayed conscious. Luce was crouching down on the floor next to him. “Sammy?”

“Phone. Luce. My phone. I’ll be fine, frigging Prazosin, only just took one, blood pressure crap. I need my phone.”

Lucifer got it for him and passed it down to him.

“Dean? Dean? I’m OK... You need to turn around and head back here... It is not just some pissed off Native American chick... I’ll explain when you get here but it is something powerful enough to have the remains of Heaven’s Garrison worried!”

Sam handed the phone back to Lucifer. “He’ll be back by morning. Now help me to bed.”

_____________________________________________________


	3. Creep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning -  
> Non Con is in this chapter.
> 
> Chapter Title from Creep by Radiohead. Lyrics by Thom Yorke.
> 
> "You're just like an angel  
> Your skin makes me cry  
> You float like a feather  
> In a beautiful world  
> I wish I was special  
> You're so fucking special  
> But I 'm a creep.....  
> .....I don't care if it hurts  
> I want to have control  
> I want a perfect body  
> I want a perfect soul  
> I want you to notice  
> When I'm not around  
> You're so fucking special"

_______________________________________________________________________________

Sam’s alarm was bleeping. He stretched a hand out from under the sheet and brought the phone up in front of his eyes, **Massage with Li in 30 minutes.** That meant it was 10.30am. He had slept late and Luce was not there spooning him. Then he heard raised voices.

“He is my brother, motherfucker, and if he wants to come with me, he is coming!”

“He is my vessel and I say he is not ready to go anywhere with you.”

“You can’t stop him, you sonofabitch.”

Sam swung his legs out of the bed and got up slowly. 

Lucifer was shouting at Dean, “I know what is best for Sam.”

As Sam moved towards the voices he could hear Dean spitting out, “You only know what is best for you. You are toxic for my brother.”

Sam walked into the living room. Dean was standing with his duffel at his feet, the vein pulsing at his temple. Lucifer was standing directly in front of him with his back to Sam, who moved to where they could both see him.

“Stop Dean. Stop Luce. We are meant to be operating under truce conditions. Remember guys?”

Luce walked over and kissed Sam hard, right in front of Dean’s face, “I’m sorry babe, Dean said you wanted to go hunting and I am worried about you.”

“Luce, I don’t know yet. We need to research this Becuma, but I am not letting my brother go in without back-up and the town is closed to angels and demons.”

Dean was trying not to smirk at Lucifer’s back. Sam caught his gaze and glared at him. Sam was an expert glarer and Dean picked up his bag and dumped it on the table, “OK Sammy, get suited and booted, time for you to do your research shit.”

Sam pulled back from Lucifer and said, “Luce, this is important, I mean, we need to find out about Becuma.”

Lucifer nodded his assent at Sam.

Two hours later with his appointments for the day cancelled, while Lucifer was downstairs picking up lunch from the employee cafeteria, Sam caught a break.

“Huh.”

“Huh Sam? You find something?”

“Yeah. I have been searching biblical sources, demonic texts, and some Hispanic sites because of the name, but www.celtic-demonology.ie has her. She’s Irish.”

“Freaking leprechauns again. I am not doing fairy dust again. I refuse. Garth can handle it.”

“No leprechauns. She is some kind of tribal god or ancient queen. I have a link here to Irish Gods and Goddesses.”

“Why isn’t her royal ass haunting somewhere in Ireland?”

“Wait Dean, I’m reading here.”

“What is that awful sound coming from your laptop?”

“Enya. The website has music.”

“Turn it off now. It is messing with my ears, and how do you know it is Enya?”

“I’m turning it off, now let me read.”

“Spill.”

“Says here that Becuma was an otherworld woman who was exiled from Tir Tairngine, the land of promise where all earthly dreams lie in potential waiting to be fulfilled. She came to Tara, the ancient capital of Ireland, and lusted after Prince Art, but she wanted power so she married his elderly father, King Conn Cetchathach, of the Hundred Battles. Dude, what is with these names, they are full of consonants?”

“Keep going, Sam, I want to know if the Leprechaun Queen lived happily ever after.”

“She is not a Leprechaun Queen. Listen to this part, The Reign of Queen Becuma led to a land without milk or corn. She made Conn banish Art and when he returned she challenged Art to a game of chess. She won and sent him on a quest for the wand of Cu Roi. When he succeeded she challenged him to another game and this time when she won she sent him on a quest to marry the unattainable Delbchaem.”

“Dude, your pronunciation is crap.”

Sam ignored him. “Art succeeded again and returned to banish Becuma. She fled to Munster and is said to have gone underground to the Hollow Hills. The autumn equinox was said to be her time, what do you think the chances are that she is planning something big for later this week?”

“Thanks for the story time but how do we kill her?”

“I’m searching for Conn of the Hundred Battles... to heal his land Conn had to shed the blood of a boy of sinless parents.”

“Dude, what? Does that kill her? How do we gank the bitch? And I am not shedding the blood of a boy of sinless parents.”

“We need a wand of Cu Roi, dipped in the blood of a boar.”

“What is that?”

“I think it is a branch of a lucky hazel tree.”

“Where are we going to find a lucky hazel tree?”

“I don’t know Dean. Ireland?”

“Cas!” Dean called up at the ceiling, “Castiel! Cas I need a favor!”

There was the brief sound of wings and Cas walked in from the balcony.

“Hello Dean.” Cas looked at Dean for a moment and then nodded at Sam, “Hi Sam.”

“I need a favor, man.”

“What do you require?”

“You ever have been to Ireland?”

________________________________________________________

 

Burning Heart by Survivor was blaring out the windows of the Impala. Dean was thumping the wheel and singing along. He turned to his brother, “Sam and Dean, Dean and Sam, back on the road!” and he punched Sam’s arm.

Sam smiled slowly in response. “Yeah Dean, except Luce isn’t talking to me and if you shake me I’ll rattle and I have a doggie bag of pills in my pack.”

“Guess we will have to Shake, Rattle and Roll, so bro.” Dean was not going to let Sam bring him down from this high. Sam sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, on a hunt, an experience taken from him since those bastard Leviathan had made him hide Baby.

“That was lame, Dean,” but Sam thumped his arm back and laughed. 

“We are still 3 hours from our overnight stop at Grants Pass. You want to stop for a girlie vanilla latte?”

“Sure, man”

“Your turn to pay, Sammy.”

Sam looked away and stared out the window. Dean could see Sam biting his lip.

“Hello Princess?”

Sam didn’t look around, “I don’t have any money.”

“Forgot your wallet, cheapskate?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t have any money.”

“What the fuck? I thought you and Lucifer were running a multi-million dollar operation.”

“We are but I don’t need to have money.”

Dean’s head was spinning. He pulled the Impala over and turned to look at Sam. “What if you want to go out for a beer?”

“Luce doesn’t like bars.”

“No him, goddamnit. You...what if you want to go out for a beer?”

“I could ask Luce for money, but it is too dangerous for me to go on my own so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does frigging matter, Sam. Where is your fight?”

“I don’t have any left, Dean. Don’t be like this. I’m OK. It’s OK.”

“It is not OK. Not one tiny little bit, man. He cannot control your life like this. Open your eyes. He is fucking controlling you.”

“I don’t mind. I’m used to it. He is taking care of me.”

Dean thumped the wheel so hard his hand hurt. “We are not going to agree on this are we?”

“Truce, please, Dean?”

Sam was digging in his bag for a diazepam. Dean saw what he was doing and noticed Sam palming a pill and slipping into his mouth under a concealing fake cough. Dean backed down, he couldn’t push his brother so much he needed meds. He was afraid that if he said too much, or tried to pull Sam away from Lucifer, or they actually thrashed this out in the mother of all talks, then Sam’s fragile state of mind would shatter.

“Truce, Sam. You know how I feel. You know I want to help you. I don’t blame you for any of this. I do think that you should ask Lucifer for access to money, but we are hunting and we can postpone this discussion. Truce.” 

The truce didn’t make Dean feel any better about the road his brother was headed down but he put the car back in gear and they drove to Grants Pass in silence.

________________________________________

 

They were back at the Grants Pass motel where they had stayed when they had ganked Eve in that diner. Dean wasn’t surprised that they went unrecognized. The town had been pretty whacked out back then. They checked in and Dean glanced back at Sam following him to the room. Sam was slouching behind him with both hands in his pockets and the sight merged with his memories of 22 or 23 year old Sam doing the same thing. He thought his heart might break all over again at how innocent Sam was back then. He remembered a conversation after they had saved those kids in Fitchburg, how Sam had wished for child-like innocence and he had told him that he wanted that for him too. They thought they had seen the darkness then, but they had no clue, they weren’t innocent like little children back then but neither of them knew about the apocalypse or angels or vessels, and neither of them had done time in hell. Dean pinched his eyes at the bridge of his nose to centre himself, and used his other hand to swipe the key card for their room. 

“You start the salting, Sam, I’ll get our gear and then I’ll do the demon warding.”

“Uh, Dean, I don’t think you’ll need to demon ward, if any are dumb enough to come here I can command them to leave, but some angel proofing would be nice.”

“Sorry, Sam, Cas needs to be able to get in once he finds a suitable wand.”

“Forgot, sorry.”

“...and I am demon warding. Ever heard of rebellions in Hell? Some of those black-eyed fuckers probably hold a grudge against you and me.”

 

Sam remembered the warehouse in Los Angeles and that Lucifer had let Bela Talbot go. He nodded to Dean and pulled a baggie of salt from his jacket and headed for the first window.

Once the wards were done Dean announced he needed a drink and was going across the car park to the bar. Sam didn’t want to go. The diazepam was making him relaxed and he was in a warded room. He told Dean to watch out for ex-Jefferson Starships and not to worry as he was taking his Prazosin and would be asleep when he got back.

Dean had two whiskeys and flirted on autopilot with a ditsy waitress who had unappealing cold sores on her mouth. Dean wondered if she had genital herpes too. Slamming his glass down on the table he realized he was too worried about Sam to enjoy himself and headed back to the motel. 

His phone bleeped a text. He opened it, “Is he alright?” It was from Lucifer. Satan was texting him. He wanted to melt his phone in a bucket of holy water, but he figured if he didn’t answer then the devil might show up at the motel. He sent a short: “Yes, Fuck U.” 

He opened the door of their room. Sam was asleep with all his clothes on, face down on top of the comforter. Dean whispered, “Ah Sammy, you didn’t even take off your shoes.” He moved over to ease off his brother’s hiking boots. There were blister packs of meds on the bed that he had to put on the table before he managed to push and prod his sleeping brother into a position where he wouldn’t wake with cramp in the morning. There was a post-it next to the room’s phone in Sam’s hand. It was a list of support groups and psychiatrists to call in an emergency. Dean caught it and balled it up to throw in the trash, but then the put the ball of paper in his pocket. Then exhaustion hit him and he slept in his clothes too, mirroring his brother on the other bed.

He woke at dawn aware of someone watching him. He spun off the bed, gun in hand. Castiel was sitting at the beat up table.

“How long have you been there, Cas?

“Hello Dean. You were asleep.”

“When did you get here?”

“Midnight.”

Dean knew he had been sitting there for six hours waiting for him to wake. 

“You got it?”

Cas pulled a slender branch from under his coat and handed it to Dean. “I have sharpened the end.”

“Where is the boar blood?”

“I believe it needs to be wet. If I had done it, it would have been premature. I would recommend finding a butcher when you are in the town. Pig blood should work if they do not stock wild boar.”

“Thanks Cas.”

“Don’t mention it, Dean, this was one of the easier things you have requested of me, it just took me a while to find the right tree.”

Dean looked up from the ‘wand’ to thank Cas again but he was gone.

_______________________________________

 

They were on highway 101, a few miles out of Bandon. Sam was driving. He had looked at the Impala so longingly that Dean had thrown him the keys and told him to take the wheel. Sam’s phone rang. 

“Can you answer Dean? I need to concentrate.”

“I better not be him.” Dean looked at the screen. It said LSM. Dean answered.

“Dean Winchester, who is this? yeah Seth I remember you... yeah OK... Thanks for the heads up.... I’ll tell him.... no he can’t talk, he is driving... right, man, I will.”

“Gonna share?”

“Seth has been watching the Bandon CCTV feeds since he got into work and was given the job as a special assignment. The only movement had been a trickle of people heading for the municipal building in City Park. So it looks like that is where the gig is going down.”

“What are you to tell me?”

“Lucifer,” Dean’s chest tightened and he took a quick nasal breath, “Lucifer said to tell you that he will be waiting for you when you get home.”

Sam smiled and Dean tried to pretend he didn’t see it. Sam slowed the car down. “The welcome sign is up ahead. Should I pull over?”

“Yeah. Park her up. Garth’s nerd buddy couldn’t drive in but I think with our internal and external warding we should be able to walk.”

Sam pulled the Impala well up on the grass verge in front of the sign. They both got out at the same time.

“Here goes” Dean walked forward wondering if he would meet an invisible barrier. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sam a step behind him. He passed the sign and was turning around to comment on what a breeze that was when he heard Sam cry out in pain. “Dean!” 

Sam was on fire. 

There were flames licking out from his chest. Dean grabbed him and pulled him across the town line and kept pulling him in towards his chest, using his own body to stifle the flames. The weight of his taller brother toppled both of them to the ground. Dean rolled out from under Sam. The fire was out but Sam didn’t look so good. He was hyperventilating and his eyes were somewhere else.

“Sam, Sammy!” Dean put his hand over Sam’s heart. “You are not there. Not in hell. You are here with me. Breathe slowly. Come on Sam, you can do this, remember, count to ten for me, Sammy, come on, don’t do this to me, you don’t do this, bitch”

“Jerk, two, three, four, jerk get off me, six, seven, I’m not a baby, eight, nine ten.”

“Sam?”

“Guess I triggered one of the wards.”

“You OK? What happened?”

“Well I think I got set alight, but I have spent the last three months learning how to deal with that particular torture. Thanks, man, you know for the helping hand.”

“Shucks, bere rabbit, have to help a guy when he is turned into a firecracker.”

“Jerk. Give me a hand up.” Dean felt his brother’s nerves trembling as he helped him up. 

“I know we are on a hunt but you want a pill?”

“The pills are in the car on the other side of the barrier.”

“Crap.”

“Yeah. Come on lets head for town.”

They didn’t see anyone all the way into town. Sam tried to phone Seth but there was no signal. Sam pulled the map they had printed from Google out of his pocket and they made their way to City Park. It was eerily quiet. Just the sound of gulls and waves breaking. The building in City Park had a sign announcing it as the Library, Theatre and Community Centre. 

“So Dean, do we walk right in?”

“Got a better plan? We know this is the only place anyone was headed.”

“Shouldn’t we, you know, dip the stick in blood first?”

“The Becuma might be able to smell the blood or it might dry out before we find her. Let’s scout out the joint first.”

As they pushed the doors open they were grabbed from behind.

“Hey, hey,” Dean called, “We are just following the crowd here.”

A man’s voice responded, “You are outsiders.”

“No. You are wrong” Dean said. “We don’t come into town much but we’re local.”

“Outsiders must be taken to Becuma.”

“OK. Let’s meet Becuma.” Dean glanced at Sam, who was staying quiet but seemed fine.

They were disarmed at the door. Their captors threw their arsenal in a heap against the wall. Then they were half-pulled half-dragged into the theatre. From the top of the aisle they could see a pale slender very beautiful woman in a cloak with the hood hanging back under long dark tresses. She was seated in a tall backed arm chair in the centre of the stage surrounded by townspeople who had their heads bowed to the floor. There was a glow radiating out from her.

“A beautiful man and another,” She looked toward Dean and Sam. Her voice held power and seemed to seep under their skins.

“Bring them to me, my worshippers.”

Dean and Sam were marched up on stage and pushed to kneel in front of her.

“I am Becuma. What are you?”

Dean spoke, “We are Dean and....” Becuma looked at him and he couldn’t speak. He tried to move his mouth but his vocal cords would not obey him.

“Not you, little pretty man,” She turned to Sam, “You? What are you?”

Sam shook his head. He didn’t know the answer.

“I am Becuma, Lady of Tir Tairngine, I have slept for aeons. The ring of stones which guarded my resting place were pulled from their roots and I have emerged.”

“Why are you here?” Sam asked.

“Brave to ask me a question when you have not answered mine. I will answer and then you will tell me what you are.” Becuma smiled at Sam. Dean marveled at his brother’s attractiveness to evil bitches. 

“I followed the spring that flowed from my hollow hill down to the town that bears it name. My river Bandon, my town.” Becuma’s face darkened, with a blackness to match her cloak. Her features sharpened, teeth grew long, and her nails became crescent shaped scythes. “My town was corrupt. I fled the Christians when they came to the land and now my river flows through the most Christian town in Ireland. I walked the streets and found church after church of sects of the accursed religion. I went to the town’s hall do you know what I found, creature?”

Sam shook his head again.

“All of them. All the Christians of all the sects in their dowdy clothes and crucifixes, having an ecumenical bake sale.”

Dean laughed soundlessly. Becuma swung her terrible face towards him. “You have something to say about the perversion of my home, beautiful?”

“No your divineness” responded Dean, glad he had his speech back.

Becuma turned back to Sam, “So mysterious one, I sought another place, another Bandon, and I found myself in New Bandon and I discovered it a Godless place. It is in need of a God and I am here.”

“I’ve had just about enough of people deciding to be God,” Dean commented.

“You will not speak, or I will silence you permanently.” She leaned forward and smelled him. “You reek of purgatory and hell, you are clouding my sense of the unknown one. Take him to the side stage.”

Dean was pulled away. “Sam, Sam, I am still here.” He was only about 20 feet away and he could see Becuma leaning over Sam.

She bent down and used her talon to rip a slice out of Sam’s chest. Then she held the thin strip of Sam’s flesh on the end of her nail and examined it. Dean could see Sam trembling and hear him repeating to himself “Not meat hooks, not meat hooks.”

Becuma was regarding him carefully. “You don’t know what you are? Do you? Sam?”

She licked the strip of flesh, and closed her eyes as if savoring a fine wine.

“Yum. Blood, Chemicals, Fear, Sulphur, Bravery, Grace, Secrets, Suffering, Intelligence,” Becuma’s eyes widened, “and a new soul owner. You are like me. You are capable of becoming one of us. You are worthy.”

Sam spoke. “Worthy of what?”

“A worthy opponent. We will play chess.”

“Chess?” Sam could play but he hadn’t touched a board in years.

“Yes it is the evolution of the game of fidhchell. We will play. If I win you will join with me as my new Prince Art. If you win I will let you and your pretty human boy go.”

“What about the town?”

“It is mine.”

“I’ll play you if you release the town too.”

“I could crush your human toy.”

“He is not a toy, Dean is my brother.”

“You think I was born yesterday, Sam. I am thousands of years old. He cannot be your brother, you are different species. But you are like Ferdia and Cu Cuchalainn, I can sense your fosterage sibling bond.”

“Believe what you want Becuma. I will play you for Dean and the town.”

“You drive a hard deal, but I like your bravery. We will play.” She turned to one of the bowing supplicants. “Fetch me a chess set, and take these two from my presence while I prepare for the game.”

Sam was hauled to his feet by two huge bodybuilder types and taken to a small dressing room with Dean. The townspeople tied them to two fold-out chairs without speaking a word and left them alone.

Dean was shaking his head back and forth trying to clear the white noise that was filling him. 

“Dean are you OK? Did she do something to you?”

“What did she mean ‘owner of souls’?”

“Can we do this later?”

“No, man, we can’t.”

“When Crowley was taken and Luce was searching for him. I had to sign a contract.”

“Frigging Hell. Sam you did not HAVE to do anything. You could have refused. When were you going to tell me? Thought we had a therapy agreement, Sam, no secrets, remember?”

“Tomorrow before therapy.”

“The pact doesn’t just apply in therapy.”

“I know, Dean.”

“What does this mean? Are you TRYING to turn yourself into a demon?” Dean realized he was shouting and tried to lower his tone, “Will I turn up one day and your eyes will turn black or yellow?”

“I don’t know,” Sam couldn’t look at Dean, “I don’t think so. Cas used the souls from Purgatory and he didn’t turn into a demon.”

“Cas is an angel. And I seem to remember that that killed him.”

“I can free the soul when it comes to me. When it comes to me I will make sure it is not tortured in Hell.”

“Can’t you see how wrong that sounds? A soul will come to you!”

“Of course I can Dean. It is completely fucked up. But my life is completely fucked up, always has been. I’m dealing.”

“This is not dealing with it. Sam. A soul, Sam? Someone’s immortal soul belongs to you. What next? Will you be sending your own hellhound to collect in ten years time?”

“Mmm.”

“Dude?”

“Mmm.”

“What does mmm mean?”

“Luce asked me if I wanted a puppy.”

Dean spoke very deliberately to prevent the bomb from going off in his head. “What did you say to him, Sam?”

“I called her Jude.”

Sam could see Dean trying to hang on to the last shred of his patience.

“If I wasn’t tied up here I would punch your lights out.”

“Please Dean, calm down”.

“I’m calm, but I am not good about this. This is a new low from Lucifer.”

“It is not his fault. I signed the contract. I wanted the puppy.”

“Do not. Do not defend him to me. He put you in those positions. None of this is your fault.”

Sam sniffed and asked, “If we get out of here, are you going to stay away again?”

Dean took a breath to steady himself. “No Sammy. Not from you, but I really wish this town wasn’t angel proofed. I need to talk to Cas. I need to ask him about what Becuma said about you not being completely human.”

Dean waited to see what Sam would say. All the times he had jerked him around about being a freak growing up had been a theme of their therapy sessions. Sam just sighed and said, “I am not sure I ever was completely human, Dean.”

The door opened and the two body builders entered. They untied Sam and took him away leaving Dean on his own. 

Dean rocked his chair from leg to leg until the ropes on his wrists met the sharp metal leg of the dressing table and he set to work rubbing through the binding. He concentrated on the action, blocking out what Becuma said about them not being brothers, focusing on the motions, until he felt the bonds loosen and he slipped out of them. He made short work of the ankle ties. Then he was up, slipping through the unlocked door into an empty corridor “Amateurs” he said out loud. He worked his way through the backstage area. He could hear Sam and Becuma debating who got the white pieces. He was happy that Sam was still remembering to delay-to-improve-chance-of-rescue. 

Everyone was in the theatre providing Becuma with an audience for her match with Sam. Dean crept carefully out to the front door and grabbed his gun, a machete, and the hazel wand from the pile by the door. He tried the handle and the main door swung open, and he was out. He broke into a loping run, looking around for anyone who might appear. Then he saw one of the CCTV cameras. What if his plan didn’t work? He needed Plan B. He stared at the camera, and mouthed with exaggerated movements. “Seth, Seth, Sam is in trouble. I am getting him. Tell your boss, Becuma demi god.”

Plan B taken care of, Dean set off in search of a butchers. 

He found one on the main street. Smashing the window he climbed in. He couldn’t find any boar blood or even boar meat to smear on the stick. He didn’t think he had time to look for another shop, so he dipped the wand in pig blood and headed back.

He followed the same route back through the theatre until he was hidden by the back drop a little way behind Becuma’s chair. Becuma was talking to Sam. “Your second knight is mine. Not going so well for you, godlet?”

“I’m just human, you are mistaken. Your move.”

“You are mistaken. I can see all your potential pasts and futures. They spiral around you, converging at your fixed points. Humans almost never have a fixed point, they have free will.”

“Fixed points?” Sam asked curious in spite of himself and hoping that the longer she talked the better chance Dean would have of escaping.

“You know the first one.”

“In Detroit, when I said yes.”

“Yes, how clever of you. Your move.”

Sam moved a pawn up one square. It was a holding move to keep the game going. He knew he was losing. “There are more?”

“Look yourself. You have the power within you to see potential realities. I see your futures. What will you become?”

Sam knew the game was up, she had trapped his king’s escape route with her rook. “There does not seem to be many potential moves on the board.”

“mmm I didn’t taste your sense of humor in your flesh. Concede now and I will spare your foster-brother.”

“He is my brother. I concede.”

Becuma stood up, while Sam hung his head.

“Applause” she commanded.

Dean used the noise and movement of the townspeople’s standing ovation to vault through the set curtains and drive the wand through Becuma’s back roaring his battle cry, “Sam is my brother, you needy bitch.”

Becuma started to turn on him but then looked at the wand and vanished.

“Where did she go, Sam?”

“Back to Ireland maybe? I don’t think that killed her.”

“It was pigs’ blood. Couldn’t get boar.”

“Well it was enough to banish her at least.”

“I wanted to gank that bitch. Do you have evil-bitch-pheromones, Sammy?”

“I doubt it Dean, It seemed to be the only thing that she didn’t taste in me.”

“You OK, man, how is your chest? There is a lot of blood on your shirt.”

“I’ll heal. I think we can chalk our first hunt up as a success. Now let’s get out of here before the town comes to its senses.”

“Our first hunt. You are coming again, Sammy?”

“Just try and stop me, Dean. I haven’t felt this good in an age.”

______________________________________________

Wednesday 31st October – San Francisco

There was a stench of burnt plastic in the apartment. Sam’s nose twitched as he tried to ignore how unpleasant the smell was. If he had thought that the stink would linger, he would not have burned the laminated Schedule in the sink but out on the balcony and sent it drifting down to the street like a Chinese lantern.

According to the now defunct Schedule he should have arrived for his session with Dr Weinstein and Lucifer ten minutes ago. Since Becuma, Sam had been dropping therapies. When he found that he was able to deal with spontaneously combusting at the Welcome to Bandon sign, he figured he didn’t need SFSF or Dr Blake’s attention retraining appointments anymore. He felt more centered and whole, strong even. “Brothers-In-Treatment” had been ditched in favor of Brothers-go-hunting and he had worked two more jobs with Dean in the last six weeks. He still went to Stanford on Friday but they had stopped his Paxil, and told him only to take a diazepam if he needed one. He was privately considering stopping the Prazosin against their advice, to see if he could cope with the nightmares.

After the second hunt with Dean, a simple take down of a newly turned were-lynx in Sacramento, Sam had asked Luce for a credit card, saying it was ridiculous to be hunting things and not be able to pay for their gas. Lucifer had not been pleased but had produced two cards for Sam. One was an LSM company card for Sam Morningstar and another was for Sam Lucas drawn on Coutts of London. 

Things were tense with Luce. He held Sam tighter when they embraced, and Sam sometimes had to remind him that he needed to breathe. Lucifer seemed to be ordering him around more and talking to him less. Sam could see his jealousy over Dean. Dean had stopped visiting and coming on Saturday nights, but he was basing his hunts in the North West. Sam suspected he didn’t want to be more than a couple of days drive away. Dean would call Sam when he was 10 minutes away and just pull up the Impala outside and wait for Sam to join him. Some weeks they just drove around the bay area, and twice they had hunted. 

______________________________________________

Ten days ago Dean had called from the car and Sam had grabbed his duffle and headed down to go on a job. Lucifer had stalked to the car after him and faced Dean. “Dean Winchester, you had better take care of him.”

Dean had leaned against the bonnet sipping a bottle of coke and said casually, “Sam can take care of himself.”

“Why not come up to the apartment and we can talk,” Lucifer had spread his arms open, palms up.

“You listen to me,” Dean’s voice was cold, “I am never setting foot in there again. Sam knows it and he is fine with it.”

“Sam?” Lucifer turned to look at Sam coming back from getting a knife for his belt from the trunk.

“Dean will do what he wants. I respect his decisions and he respects mine.”

“Sam, you are coming home, aren’t you?” Lucifer pulled him into one of these new tight hugs.

“Yeah Luce, I’m coming back, mind the ribs.” Sam pulled away but leaned back in to kiss him, “We will only be a few days. Don’t let Jude boss Dante around.”

Sam jumped into the passenger side and had barely fastened his belt when Dean pulled off. Looking back he could see Luce sticking his tongue out at the tail lights. 

The hunt had been another simple one outside Elko, Nevada. However the Winchester Luck hit and it turned out there was a second vengeful spirit at the deserted ranch.

While Dean was in Elko Cemetery burning the remains of Papa Psycho, Sam was watching his spirit, which they had trapped in a circle of salt. Then Mama Psycho had caused a cleaver to levitate and it spun through the air behind Sam aiming at the back of his neck. In that spilt second, Sam ‘saw’ the knife coming from behind and turned and ducked to dodge it. The cleaver sailed over his head, slicing open his exposed cheek. He staggered passed the burning spirit of Papa Psycho, with blood pouring down his face from one helluva flesh wound, bringing his gun up to blast Mama Psycho with a round of rocksalt. He fumbled for his phone and called Dean to tell him to make the grave hole wider and finish the job. 

Twenty minutes later, out of rock salt and having lost the iron crowbar when it was flung from his grasp, he found himself cornered against the pantry wall. Mama Psycho headed straight for him. All he could think was “Dean”. Then he was falling. He didn’t think the ghost had been close enough to work any mojo on him. As he fell, he prayed he hadn’t died and wasn’t falling back into The Cage, and he thought of Dean again, wondering if that was his final thought. Then he landed with a crunch in a hole smelling of burning putrid meat. He looked up at Dean’s shocked face.

“You fell out of the sky, dude!”

“Wh – what?”

“Crushed old Papa Psycho. You OK?”

“Yeah, What?”

“Well get your lazy ass up and help me dig out Mama Bitch, my back is aching here, man.”

“Dean, I don’t know how I got here.”

Castiel’s voice floated down from ground level. “Intent and Will”.

“Cas?” Dean called up.

The angel leaned over the grave, “Hello Dean.”

“Hey man, I’m here too,” Sam called up, trying to wipe Papa Psycho’s sticky ashes off with one hand and hold his cheek together with the other.

“Sam.” Cas looked at him as if he was something on a slide under a microscope, “Did your cheek open when you jumped?”

“What Cas? I didn’t jump into this coffin. It got sliced by the other spirit.”

“That is good. Bodily severance is unpleasant.” 

Dean leaned on the handle of his shovel, “What is going on Cas? What threw Sam in here?”

“Sam did. He willed himself here with Intent. I was close by. I felt the jump.”

Dean looked confused. Sam wondered if Cas spent all his free time invisible and close by Dean.

“Sam,” Cas looked down on him, “using this power in an uncontrolled way could have consequences.”

Dean said, “I know I might be a dumbass here, Cas. But can you explain just what happened... Oh Fuck!” The three of them looked up at the screeching apparition of Mama Psycho heading straight for them.

Cas took charge, “I’ll pin her back. Dean get the salt and gasoline ready. Sam move that mound of earth off her coffin NOW.”

Sam knew what Cas meant and he reached deep inside himself and used his mind to fling the earth off the coffin and shower it out of the grave. Cas had to prod Dean with his finger to get him moving while Sam cracked open the coffin lid with the shovel.

While the body burned Dean turned to Sam, “What is going on with you?”

“You mean my psychic shit?”

“Yeah but all that stopped when you got clean of the demon blood.” Dean leaned into the grave to give Sam a hand out, “You are not?”

“No Dean. I wouldn’t.”

“He could be spiking your food with it.”

“He wouldn’t and I would know. I think it might be the Grace.”

Cas nodded, “I think you may be correct, Sam. I have been looking for a reason you set off the warding at Bandon. I think you may have your own Grace now, but it is complicated. You clearly are not an angel. I will continue to search for an answer.” 

Cas was gone. Dean said, “He never says goodbye. Come on Sam, leave me look at that cheek. I might need to use my sewing skills on you.”

________________________________________

That was a week ago. Sam had got back home to a lecture about his injured cheek which Luce had promptly healed for him. When he finally could get a chance to speak he told Luce what had happened with noticing the cleaver, moving the earth and the jump. Sam could tell that the concern his partner was showing him was just a veneer and he was actually delighted that Sam had ‘jumped’. Sam didn’t know what to say to him. 

He had spent more time with Jude than Luce since then. Jude was the tallest Irish wolfhound he had ever seen. She had a steel grey coat and red eyes. Luce said she was still too young to keep her eyes camouflaged. In Sam’s opinion she was wonderful. When she leant in against his side he felt like everything in the world would be OK. She followed him from room to room and lay on the floor across the end of the bed at night. The only problem was that Dante and Jude fought if left together, so Dante was back in Hell most of the time. At the moment both hounds were down below.

It was 5.15pm now and Sam was still leaning against the back of the sofa. He wasn’t going to join Lucifer down in the anteroom. He was ignoring his phone and took it out of his pocket and put it on the table. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his beige denim jacket and waited for Lucifer to come looking for him. 

Lucifer stepped out of the elevator. “Why are you still here? I was in the anteroom.”

“Not coming.”

“Yes you are.”

“No. I am not talking to Weinstein or Bauer anymore. I don’t need to relive The Cage any longer. It is past. All Weinstein does is tell us we are good for each other.”

“Come with me.”

“No Luce I am not going.”

“Yes you bloody well are,” Lucifer grabbed Sam’s wrist.

“You are not dragging me down there.”

Lucifer pulled him towards the elevator.

“Stop pulling me, you are burning my wrist”

Lucifer used his power to open the elevator door and mentally threw Sam into the box. Sam’s back slammed into the elevator wall winding him. He breathed out and cocked his head to clear it. Looking at Lucifer standing in front of him, he dug deep into his core and stood up. He walked back out into the living room and used his own power to fling Lucifer back against the dining table.

“You don’t want to fight me Sam. You know you won’t win.”

“No more therapy downstairs.” Sam headed towards the sofa to sit down and make his point.

“Sam you will obey me. It is for your own good. We are going downstairs,” Lucifer walked toward Sam.

Sam stubbornly shook his head. Then his head snapped sideways as Lucifer punched him. He bent over spitting blood.

“You hit me!” Sam looked up as Lucifer’s fist connected with his jaw and he staggered backwards. At the next blow he was floored on his back.

Lucifer was standing over him, “I have done everything for you. Everything to make you happy. I have been patient and accommodating, yet you defy me. You will do as I say.”

Sam tried to reason with him, “I am stronger now, Luce, I make my own decisions and I don’t need the therapies.”

“You can’t make your own decisions. I need to make them for you. Look where we ended up before.” Lucifer was holding him down on the ground, pushing on his chest for emphasis.

“You can’t control me Luce.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up and say that to my face, Sam.”

Sam used the back of the sofa to ease himself off the floor and pulled his shoulders back ready to say it to Lucifer’s face. Lucifer caught his arms and spun him around pushing his head down over the back of the sofa.

“You listen to me Sam. I am in control here.” Lucifer was pinning his legs against the sofa with his body and pushing his head lower with his hand. Sam watched the blood dripping from his mouth onto the sofa. Then Lucifer’s other hand started to open Sam’s belt.

“No, Luce, Stop, You don’t want to do this.”

“You will do as I say. I have ignored you dropping your other therapies. I have tolerated you seeing your beloved brother, but I will not let you go.” He was pulling Sam’s jeans down.

“Not going anywhere. Please Luce, don’t do this”

“You are mine, Sam and you will obey me.” He shoved his knees into the back of Sam’s thighs to pin him.

“No Luce. Please. Stop. Don’t do this.”

“You will not disobey me Sam.” Lucifer lifted his arm and stepped back.

Sam screamed as Lucifer laid the first blow of the belt across his lower back. “You will listen to me now Sam. I want you to count. That was one.” Lucifer dropped the belt and used his palm to mark Sam’s bare ass.

“Two.” Sam choked out.

“Why am I doing this?” Lucifer asked and swung his hand to the other cheek.

“Three. Because I defied you.”

Lucifer laid the next blow at the top of Sam’s thigh. “How did you?”

“Four, I didn’t go to therapy.”

This time he hit across Sam’s crack.

“Five, I... I burned my schedule.” Right cheek again.

“Six, I refused your help.” Left cheek.

“Seven, I cancelled the other therapists.” Right cheek.

“Eight, I told Stanford I won’t be there on Friday.”Lower back.

“Nine, I... don’t know. I..Lucifer?”

“Think Sam. What else did I see? What else did you do?” Lucifer demanded as he laid ten and eleven.

“Nothing. Honestly Lucifer.”

Lucifer wrapped a hand around finding Sam’s hardened cock. He laid a final cracking blow across the centre of the reddened ass. “You are so well trained, my darling.”

Sam began to squirm and Lucifer could see water begin to drip from Sam’s nose.

“I’m sorry Luce.. Please don’t make me go back.”

Lucifer smacked a thirteenth blow mid thigh across the muscle.

“Thirteen. I... I’m hard.” Sam sniffed. “So fucked up.”

Lucifer’s dick responded to the image.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked you. I should have gone to you.” Sam sobbed. 

“I am doing this to show you that I love you. I want you to come to me. I want you....”

“ Wh-what?”

Lucifer their teak chest and got some cool baby lotion and rubbed it into his own hands before drizzling some over Sam’s red backside. He smoothed it in and leaned down pulling the sweat dampened hair back from Sam’s face and whispering in his ear, “You are forgiven. It will be forgotten.”

Snaking one arm around Sam’s chest he pulled him upright. Another hand moved down to clench around Sam’s cock. “You want me.”

“No, Luce, please. I won’t... I’ll be good...let me rest now.” Sam caught Lucifer in a hug and mouthed another sorry into his neck.

Lucifer’s fingers trailed between Sam’s thighs finding their way to his furled hole. He pressed. 

“No. Please Luce.”

“Yes.”

Sam widened his stance and swallowed hard. “Can’t we rain check?”

“You are hard for me Sammy.” Lucifer licked his forked tongue along Sam’s jaw.

“You trained me.”

“You love it.”

“I really don’t.”

“Come on, Sam, be a sport.” Lucifer walked into Sam moving them back until his knees hit the sofa and they collapsed on to it. Then the lotion was in his hand and he moved down. One finger, then two. Sam tried to send his mind elsewhere. He went back to the cage, to sheltering under Lucifer’s wings. He thought of their tender moments and how much Lucifer cared for him, as two fingers became three and then Lucifer’s icy cold shaft was breaching him, pushing with force, banging his shoulders against the arm rest, picking up pace, Lucifer moaning what a good boy he was, Sam’s own cock softened and the inside of his lip bitten and bruised. Lucifer came, pulled out, kissed Sam’s forehead and instructed him to get the rest he wanted. Two slickened fingers touched his temple and Sam blacked out.


	4. Uprising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Muse: Uprising
> 
> If you could, flick the switch and open your third eye  
> You'd see that, we should never be afraid to die  
> So come on  
> Rise up and take the power back
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter features - Special un-tagged guest star.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam recovered consciousness curled up on the sofa. Blood had dripped from where he had bitten his lip and stained the white throw below his head. He was in agony. It felt like he had been torn apart. He slowly pushed himself upright. Lucifer was gone. He had left and hadn’t healed him. He had left him injured and alone. He lifted his hand to feel his tender cheek bone and saw the imprint of Lucifer’s hand had burned onto his wrist.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck”

He was devastated. It was like a flashback to the early years in the Cage but Sam tried to realize that this had really happened now. Lucifer had beaten him and forced him. Raped him. 

He needed Dean. He saw his phone on the table and staggered over with his pants still around his ankles. He grasped the cell as if it was a life saver and he was drowning.

“Dean?”

“Sam?”

“Where are you Dean?”

“Still in Utah. Found the lucky charm, or the unlucky charm. Salted burned and scattered the ashes. What do you say to a job well done, dude?”

“Can you come and get me.”

“What Sam?”

“I said can you come and get me, Dean.”

“You mean what Sam?”

“I need... I need a break. Me and Jude too, Dean?”

“I can cope with some dog hair but I’ll be with you on the morning of the 2nd anyhow.”

“That is OK. FYI heads up. I don’t look so hot.”

“What does that mean, Sam?”

“We had a fight and I lost.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No Dean, nothing broken I think, bones or my head, but I might be all shades of green and purple by the time you get here.”

“Do you want to hole up in a hotel? I’ll give you one of my credit card numbers.”

“No I’m OK here. Things will have calmed down. I just need to go for a few days, just temporary.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Downstairs I presume. He’ll be back soon.”

“I have a faint lead on a job in Dillon, Montana. Do you want to start research and when I pull up you can say you are coming with me as back-up?”

“Good idea. I’m pretty stiff though, I’ll need to hit the gym before you arrive.”

“Honest pact, Sam. How badly are you injured?”

“I’m not good.”

“I’m sending Castiel to have a look at you.”

“No Dean, just leave me to handle this myself.”

“I insist that he calls in to say hello.”

“OK but give me a while to clean up and no retaliation. I need to sort things out between us myself.”

“Call me back if you change your mind about the hotel.”

“OK if I need it I will Dean, but I won’t.”

Sam staggered to the main bathroom, pulling off his shoes and jeans. He cleaned his face wounds with antiseptic while he ran a bath. He threw some of the antiseptic into the water and carefully lowered his aching body down into the hot liquid.

 

Meanwhile Dean was standing in the middle of his motel room, roaring for Castiel. 

“I am here, Dean.”

“Sam is coming to his senses.”

Cas just tilted his head and waited for Dean to continue.

“Lucifer has beaten him to a pulp. Will you check on him and see if he needs to go to a hospital. Cas, you know, either type of hospital?”

“Yes, “and Cas was gone, leaving Dean pacing the floor.

 

Sam was lying in the bath with his eyes closed, wondering when Lucifer would return and what mood he would be in, when he heard Castiel’s wings. 

Sam gingerly pulled himself out of the cooling water and grabbed a bathrobe.  
“Kinda naked here, man.”

“Hello Sam. Dean asked me to check on your injuries.” 

Castiel looked at the marks on Sam’s back and the slow way he was moving. “Do you need me to heal you?”

“No, Luce would know you were here.”

“Do you want me to help you jump to a hospital? I think you may need treatment.”

“No. I will be fine. I’ll keep Jude with me.”

“OK Sam. Dean will be here soon.”

 

Cas jumped back to Dean. “He’ll heal, Dean.”

“He is OK?”

“No I wouldn’t say that. Lucifer gave him a beating. His wrist is burned black where he held him. He wouldn’t look at me but I saw his injuries. He said he is keeping Jude with him.”

“Can you just zap him over here?”

“No, Dean. He doesn’t want that. He needs the day to sort out his thoughts.”

“Maybe this is not so bad, Cas. I don’t want to see my brother physically beaten but this could be the first sign that he will leave Lucifer. We can’t push him but maybe he is starting to see that Lucifer will hurt him.”

“Dean, I’m sorry but it is bad. There is something else.”

“Don’t hold out on me angel.”

“Sam was... Lucifer took him forcibly... He has injuries from the penetration...”

“Fuck, Cas, Fuck. What did my brother ever do to deserve this? Fuck.” Dean was weeping. Cas came over and guided him the edge of the bed and held him like he had in purgatory and let him cry for Sam.

___________________________________________________

 

Sam stayed in the bathroom until he felt too chilled. His mind was a clear blank slate. He thought he might be in shock. Finally he stood up slowly and turned on the showerhead. He didn’t know how long he let the water flow over him. Finally he climbed out and dried himself. He looked at spots of blood on the towel as if it belonged to someone else. He picked the guest bathrobe back up off the floor and draped it over his shoulders. He hugged it to him and gingerly walked to the adjoining bathroom, using his arm to balance against the walls. He stopped at the sink and held the sink bowl with his left hand for support. He opened the medicine cabinet looking for something for the pain. He saw his Prazosin and his diazepam and pulled them out and into the sink. Then slowly and deliberately he popped every pill from their blister packs and flushed them down the toilet. He felt better. 

He closed the cabinet door and looked at his face in the mirror. The bruises were already coming up. He looked himself in the eye and told himself that he was strong enough to deal with this. He brushed his teeth, grabbed his night clothes from the main bedroom and walked wearily to the guest bedroom.

Sam was napping when Lucifer returned.

“Sam?” Lucifer called him from the living room.

Sam did not move from the guest bed.

“Sam? I have brought Jude up for you. Where are you babe?”

Sam did not move. Lucifer appeared in the doorway holding Jude by her wide black collar. He let the hound go and she padded over to Sam. Jude started whining and licking his face. Sam let her do it. It felt painful over his bruises but good. 

Lucifer was staring at him, “I’m sorry Sam. Truly sorry. I lost it back there.”

Sam ignored him.

Lucifer walked to the side of the bed. Jude put herself between them and started to growl. 

“Let me look, Sam.” He whipped the covers off while Sam froze. Lucifer could see the marks he had left on Sam’s skin. “Oh Sammy, I’m sorry, let me heal it.”

Sam nodded. His pride hurt less than his injuries. Lucifer placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam could not stop himself from flinching. Then the Grace flowed between them and Sam was whole again. “Just like The Cage,” he mumbled at Lucifer.

“I’m sorry babe, really sorry. I’ll never do it again. Do you want me to spoon you with my wings?”

“Don’t. I want to sleep here with Jude. I can’t see you now.”

“We will talk tomorrow, Sammy. I’ll make this up to you. You’ll see.”

Sam turned his back on Lucifer and listened while he left the room. Jude jumped up on the bed and lay next to him as Sam drifted off into his final night with Prazosin in his bloodstream.

_____________________________________

During lunch on Thursday, Dean phoned. Sam put down his sandwich and answered.

“Hi Dean.”

“You OK, Sammy?” Sam could hear the crushing weight of worry in those three words.

“Dean, I’m fine.”

“How are the injuries?”

“Luce healed me. I’m back to normal.”

“Is he there?” Sam heard the hitch in Dean’s breathing.

“Yeah. He is. He is very sorry.”

“Sam. Cas told me.”

There was silence from Sam’s end of the call.

“Sam? Sam? You still there dude?”

“Like I said. He healed me. Jude is here now.” Sam was hoping Dean was not going to freak out on the phone.

“OK Sam. I hear you. How is the research coming on Montana?”

“I haven’t started. I’ll get cracking on it.”

“OK. I’ll be there in the morning. I’ll call you when I am an hour out.”

“Thanks Dean.”

“Take care of yourself.”

Sam put the phone back on the table. Lucifer looked over at him. “I am presuming you told your brother that we fought?”

“Yeah I rang to warn him about the facial injuries so it would not take him by surprise tomorrow. Luce, I am not going down to see Bauer at 3 O’clock.”

“OK.”

“OK? You are not doing to pin me down and fuck me until I agree to go?”

“No. I told you. I am sorry. I mean it.”

“I need a rest. I am going back to the guestroom. Come on Jude.”

Knowing Dean would be there in the morning helped Sam get through the day without losing his temper or crumbling into a weeping heap. In the evening Crowley came up for drinks and a business discussion with Lucifer. Sam managed to nod at Crowley’s stories and even laugh at the right places. He excused himself early and headed to the guestroom where he locked himself in with Jude.

______________________________________________

Sulphur filled his nose and lungs. Sweat was dripping from every pore in this body. The flames were rising. They were flickering around his feet and searing through his jeans into his legs. 

“This is a nightmare.” Sam thought. He looked down at the flames blossoming on his checked shirt. 

“This is my nightmare.” He looked at the cage-fire and commanded the flames to die. The fire vanished. 

He looked up and he could see the prison cell, that terrible claustrophobic scenario that Lucifer had created for him and used often in those first years. He could see himself sitting on the dirty bunk mattress turned to face the dull metal wall. Then he saw the shadow of wings and he knew he was not seeing himself. It was Lucifer. Luce as him. He knelt down in front of his body and used his fingertips to turn Lucifer’s jaw towards him.

“Luce?”

His own voice said back to him, “I’m losing you.”

Sam could see raw pain in the face he looked at in the mirror every day. He hauled Lucifer to his feet, feeling it was weird that they were the same height. Then Sam pulled Luce in close to him and squeezed him tight. He felt Luce’s icy Grace reaching out to him and then his own warm liquid Grace reached out from his chest to meet it. The joined Grace grew brighter until Sam was blinded for a moment.

Then he was alone in The Cage. It was empty. He could feel his own juice. He could tap into the well of power in his soul. He touched it with his mind and explored the sensations. It sounded like a waterfall. It was shining intensely. It felt like part of his being. It smelled of salt and sulphur and tasted of Grace. It was like Ice and Heat. It tingled with demon power but shone with Enochian brightness. He wondered if it was dangerous to play with it. He thought he should ask Castiel.

The Cage was gone and he was in a garden. There were trees and a red balloon drifting in the air. He turned around and Castiel was regarding him from a bench. He walked over and joined him.

“This is Heaven, Sam.”

“Did you pull me up here?”

“No. Your Will. Your Intent.”

“How am I doing this, Cas?”

“Your entry into Heaven is impossibility.”

“It seems it is possible.”

“Why did you jump to find me, Sam?”

“My power. I need to know. Is it dangerous?”

“I do not think that I am the right angel to ask about the use of power.” Cas tilted his head towards Sam, “but you have directed your question to me. Can you tell me your range of abilities?”

“I can control my memories of Hell. I can see glimpses of the future, or at least possible futures. I have full use of the telekinesis, as you saw at the grave. I am triggering Enochian wardings. I think I can control fire. I can still exorcise demons with my mind. Now it seems I can star trek myself.... teleport... jump whatever. There may be more.”

“It is mix of angel and demon powers. Can you heal?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even consider trying.”

“Can I feel your soul?”

Sam stood up and took a pace back. “Uh, Cas, this is only a dream-me. Not now. I... hum... I just can’t have anyone poking around inside me right now. Maybe later.”

“OK Sam. I do not think that the power is evil. It would have barred your entry to Heaven. Go back now Sam. You need to sleep. I am going to watch over Dean now and I will come with him in the morning.”

__________________________________________________

2nd November.

Sam was making a green breakfast smoothie when Lucifer appeared in the kitchen. 

“I miss you, Sam.”

“I find myself missing you too.” Sam moved over and took Lucifer’s hand in his. He raised to his lips and said, “Luce we aren’t good for each other.”

Lucifer looked disbelievingly at Sam. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. You want to control me and I drive you crazy.”

“No Sam. We are meant to be together. You are part of me.”

“I believe you Luce. You are part of me.” Sam squeezed Lucifer’s hand and guided him over to the breakfast bar. They sat on the stools on opposite sides and Sam kept his hand in Lucifer’s. “Luce we will always be part of each other, but that doesn’t mean we have to spend every minute together.”

“Sam, we should not be apart. We should not be alone again.”

“I won’t leave you alone Lucifer. You will never have to spend millennia alone in The Cage again. I will always be part of you, but for now, we cannot stay together. We will hurt each other. You will try and force me again and I will not let you.”

“You are my vessel. I will not let you go!” Lucifer’s Grace slammed into Sam, and he staggered off the stool and up against the kitchen units as Lucifer took control of his body.

_You see, Sam, doesn’t this feel perfect and right?_

_Yes, Luce it feels natural and joyous, now GET OUT._

Lucifer’s Grace was thrown from Sam’s mouth and slammed back into Nick’s body where it was slumped over the bar. Lucifer shook his head.

“How did you do that Sam? You said yes to me. You can’t take that back.”

“I am stronger now. I am in control.”

Lucifer regarded him carefully. “What are your terms? Do I get to see you again ever?” A tear leaked down Lucifer’s cheek. Sam came over to him and held him in his arms.

“Luce, you are the most damaged, most lonely and most powerful part of our joined soul and Grace. I will always be here. If you need me I will come to you. I will know if you are in trouble and you will know if I need your help. I am not refusing you vessel access, but it will be when I allow it. I will not betray you and I will come to you often, but we cannot continue as we were. You need to stay and run LSM. You need to keep an eye on Crowley. Jude and I are leaving with Dean. There are people out there who need to be saved and protected. That is what Dean and I do.”

Lucifer gulped, “You have chosen him over me.”

“I have not chosen against you. Dean needs me and I need him. Luce, you are me. I am you. How would I choose against us?”

“But you are leaving with Dean.”

“I am, but I’m not leaving you. I need some time. I need to discover this new me. I need to find out who I am now.”

Lucifer hung his head but Sam didn’t let him and closed the space between them, “I need you too. I will be back for the board meeting at the end of the month. My name is on this business, and by then I should be missing you enough and have forgiven you enough to be happy to see you again.”

Lucifer was still sitting at the bar when Sam came out of the bedroom with his duffel in one hand and Jude’s lead in the other. Lucifer looked up. 

“Don’t be sad, Luce, this is temporary. Remember we will be spending eternity together.” He brushed Lucifer’s lips lightly in goodbye.

“Until next month?” Lucifer checked hopefully.

“Until next month,” Sam repeated, “And there are such inventions as cell phones.”

“I will call you, Sam.” 

“I’ll answer.” Sam smiled and pulled on Jude’s leash.

 

Sam waited for Dean and Castiel outside the main doors. When Dean came around the corner of the building he saw his brother standing erect at his full height, looking into the distance as if he could see things hidden from others, and holding the hellhound. Dean didn’t know if it was Sam, or if Lucifer had taken control of his brother. His knees gave way and he stumbled against the window. Sam was there in a flash to catch him.

“Dean. It is alright. It is me. Sam, not Lucifer.”

“You looked different, man? Is it really you? Were you his vessel again?”

“He tried earlier but I pushed him out. Don’t look at me like that Dean. I haven’t lost my mind again,” Sam smiled at his joke. Dean stayed serious and asked him if he was sure he was alright.

“I am claiming my powers, Dean. I have spent most of my life either running from them or corrupting them. Lucifer is staying here and I am leaving with you. If you will have me?”

Dean caught his brother by his arms, “Dumbass, of course I will. Let’s get back to Baby before Cas gets towed away inside her. Can you shrink that hellhound of yours to make room for Cas in the back seat?”

_________________________________________________

It was mid-November. They were in Casper, Wyoming. Dean was using his charms on a witness. Sam could probably have read the details from her mind with his developed powers but Dean’s methods produced results. Sam took Jude to the park to stretch her legs. He sat on a bench to wait for Dean. 

“French Vanilla Soy Latte?”

Sam looked up and saw Gabriel holding a coffee out to him. Sam was dismayed.

Gabriel was smiling at him. “Hello little brother.”

“I’m not Lucifer, Gabriel.”

“Didn’t say big brother, did I Sam?

Sam took the coffee and said “Oh My God. We thought you were dead.”

“Lucy is keeping a low profile, for him. Can’t I do the same?”

Sam looked at him again, “Do you know that Crowley has a file on you in his office?”

“He always was one of the sharpest angels. May I join you?”

Sam moved over for him to sit down. “Gabriel, do you know what I am?”

“You are Sam.”

“Yes but can you see. Am I human?”

Gabriel looked him in the eye. “You are human. You are demon. You are angel. I should have guessed you had the freakiest of destinies when you grew into a giant.”

“What?”

“You are our Father’s creation. I believe he made you as a gift for his wayward son, Sam, to ease his loneliness and his pain. But you have surpassed all expectations.”

“Gabe, have you seen God?”

“Such a question. Do you think you are a God?”

“No I am no God. What will happen when I die?”

“You know the answer. Your selves will reunite. I believe now you will be equal partners. You will be whole and as such if you both decide to, you probably will be able to re-enter heaven.”

“And Dean?”

“Don’t worry about Dean. Castiel will not let any harm come to him. Sam, you might be powerful but you are no Neo. Take care of yourself. You Winchesters have been the most interesting thing to happen in centuries.”

_______________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read these two stories. I hope you enjoyed reading them as much I did writing them. <3


End file.
